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How Count L. N. Tolstoy 
Lives and Works 



How Count L. N. Tolstoy 
Lives and Works 



By 



P. A. SERGYEENKO 



Translated from the Russian 

By 
ISABEL F. HAPGOOD 



NEW YORK: 46 East 14TH Street 

THOMAS Y. CROWELL & COMPANY 

BOSTON: 100 Purchase Street 







** 






. 



TWO COPMF8 RECEIVED. 



| ' 



Copyright, 1899, 
By THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO. 






HOW COUNT TOLSTOY LIVES 
AND WORKS 

CHAPTER I 

ABOUT four o'clock in the afternoon, in the win- 
ter of 1892, I was sitting with my friends the 
A.'s, who had arrived in Moscow on the previous eve- 
ning from their estate in the south. Several other guests 
besides myself were seated at the tea-table engaged in a 
lively conversation about one of Lyeff Tolstoy's latest 
works. 

Out of doors a fine snow was falling and in the room 
the twilight was gathering. 

Just as the discussion had reached its height, a gaunt 
old man, of medium stature and with the typical face of 
the Russian peasant, entered the room. He wore a short, 
sheepskin coat and tall felt boots. As he entered he 
said, " Good-afternoon," removed his felt cap, and be- 
gan to unwind from his throat a woolen scarf. 

From the table where we sat, we could not see the 
door plainly, and the A.'s stared with curiosity and 
surprise at the newcomer. 

Suddenly the hostess's face beamed with delight, and 
she said, in a drawling voice : — 

" Lyeff Nikolaevitch ! how do you do ? " 

All rose to their feet. 

It was Count L. N. Tolstoy. He untied his scarf, 
and, with a brisk, youthful movement, threw off his 
fur coat, casting sharp glances about as he did so in 
search of a place to lay it. 

I beheld L. N. Tolstoy for the first time, and, invol- 
untarily, riveted my eyes upon him. He was clad in 



2 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

a dark gray flannel blouse with a wide, turn-down col- 
lar, displaying his sinewy neck at the curves of the 
head. He was breathing rather fast from his walk in 
the cold air, and his gray hair lay in damp, tumbled 
locks upon his temples. He had an alert, wide-awake 
air, held himself upright, and moved with quick, short 
steps, hardly bending his knees, which suggested the 
motion of a man sliding upon ice. He appeared neither 
older nor younger than his age — he was then sixty-four 
— and produced the impression of a well-preserved, en- 
ergetic peasant. And his face, also, was a true peasant's 
face : simple, rustic, with a broad nose, a weather-beaten 
skin, and thick, overhanging brows, from beneath which 
small, keen, gray eyes peered sharply forth. 

But the expression of his eyes was unusual, and in- 
voluntarily attracted attention. In them seemed to be 
concentrated all the vivid tokens of Tolstoy's person- 
ality ; and he who has not seen those eyes flash and 
blaze, who has not seen them suddenly acquire a sort 
of boring and penetrating character, cannot possess a 
full conception of L. N. Tolstoy's external appearance. 

Although the majority of his portraits reproduce his 
external features with considerable success, so that 
L. N. Tolstoy may instantly be recognized from them, 
yet not one of them gives a clear idea of the core of his 
personality, not one transmits those fountains of light 
hidden in the man, which, when they are reflected upon 
his countenance at certain moments, illuminate it with 
the gleam of the inner life. This defect in the portraits 
of L. N. Tolstoy must be charged, in part, to his account. 
Because of the qualities of his vivacious, impatient na- 
ture, he presents a difficult subject for the artist. The 
artist must carry in himself a certain engraved expres- 
sion, and never seek it again at the time of actual 
work. 

After he had hung up his fur coat, L. N. Tolstoy 
approached us and began to exchange greetings. In 
spite of his modest attire, one instantly divines in Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch a man of the highest society, — well-bred, 
with polished, unconstrained manners. 



LIVES AND WORKS 3 

We were introduced to each other. 

L. N. Tolstoy bent down slightly, as though trying 
to scrutinize my face, and said courteously : — 

"Pray excuse me for not having written to you in 
regard to your article which you sent to me." 

Several months previously I had sent to L. N. Tol- 
stoy my article about a certain priest, who was extermi- 
nating drunkenness among the masses by his sermons. 

In this connection I had written to L. N. Tolstoy a 
few lines about the sympathetic personality of the priest. 
I was pleasantly surprised that, amid his extensive occu- 
pations, he had forgotten neither my modest work nor 
my name, and I said : — 

"You probably had your reasons for so doing." 

"Yes, yes, you are right," he replied, seating himself 
and pointing me to a place beside him. " There is a 
very great deal to say on the subject with which you 
dealt in your article. I had no leisure at the time, and 
I made up my mind that when I came to Moscow I 
would manage to call upon you and talk it over." 

And, picking up a pencil which was lying on the table 
and swiftly twirling it about in his fingers, Lyeff Niko- 
laevitch began to talk about the thing which then inter- 
ested me most. He talked without constraint, cleverly 
and picturesquely, in the same richly colored language 
in which he writes, easily reasoning and easily discuss- 
ing the most complicated situations. It was difficult 
to answer him. He seemed to have at his disposal a 
whole arsenal of the clearest, boldest, most original, and 
utterly unexpected arguments, with pertinent compari- 
sons and humorous interpolations, which evoked invol- 
untary laughter. Yet, nevertheless, I could not in the 
least agree with some of his positions, and I tried to 
reply. He refuted my objections on the instant, with- 
out ceasing to twirl the pencil, and hastily brought for- 
ward his own ideas, which breathed forth ingenuity, 
power, and passion. The conversation at last became 
general and turned upon other themes. 

The corridor servant brought the bubbling samovar. 
Madame A. offered Lyeff Nikolaevitch tea, but he cat- 



4 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

egorically refused it, and cast a hostile glance at the 
battery of preserve jars which stood on the table; then 
he turned his gaze to the good-natured face of the 
hostess, and his stern features softened. He began, in a 
friendly tone, to talk to her about her work in wool 
(she had been engaged in preparing yarn during the 
conversation), and about the vegetarian kitchen which 
Madame A. was planning to build in Moscow. On en- 
countering my glance, Lyeff Nikolaevitch began to talk 
about the advantage of vegetable food, and advised me 
to leave off eating meat; then he appealed to Mr. A. 
concerning some new influences in the realm of law 
(A. is a jurist-theorist, absorbed in juridical science), 
and then, gradually, he entered into conversation with 
each person present about the thing which most inter- 
ested them, evidently fearing that he might omit some 
one or other from his attention. 

The conversation turned upon one of his sons, who, at 
the moment, was seeking an estate, for purchase. 

" Lyeff Nikolaevitch, tell your son that when he has 
decided upon any estate, he is to apply to me. I will 
give him some indispensable hints, otherwise he may 
commit follies." 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch shrugged his shoulders. 

" Why prevent him ? The more follies he commits, 
the better it will be for him." 

I did not understand the sense of these words, and 
asked, " Why will it be the better for him ? " 

" Because the sooner he sets his teeth on edge with 
estates, and at last convinces himself, from his personal 
experience, that nothing good will come from this, the 
quicker will he attain to the comprehension of the fact 
that the only person for whom it is profitable to hold 
land is the man who tills it himself." 

" Very good, if it does turn out so," I remarked, "but 
failures do not always lead us to the truth. Sometimes 
they merely enrage a man, and spoil his character." 

L. N. Tolstoy darted a sharp glance from beneath 
his gray, beetling brows. 

" My son is not in that path," he ejaculated abruptly. 



LIVES AND WORKS 5 

And it seemed to me that a sort of shadow came be- 
tween us. 

Having exhausted the subject of the purchase of an 
estate, Lyeff Nikolaevitch laid the pencil on the table, 
and clasped his hands, with the fingers interlocking. 
His overhanging brows drooped still lower, and his face 
assumed a locked-up expression. The conversation evi- 
dently had wearied him, and he only listened to his 
interlocutor out of politeness. When the latter had 
finished, Lyeff Nikolaevitch asked the hour, and rose. 

But before his departure a characteristic episode took 
place. In the course of conversation with one of the 
persons present, Lyeff Nikolaevitch mentioned Bertha 
Suttner's famous book, Die Waff en nieder ! and said, 
" Of course you have read the book ? " 

The man nodded his head in assent. But his con- 
science must have tormented him for telling Lyeff Ni- 
kolaevitch an untruth, and he stammered out : — 

" Lyeff Nikolaevitch, I really am acquainted with 
the contents of that book, Away with Arms! But I 
have not yet read the book itself." 

L. N. Tolstoy changed the subject, and began to take 
leave. But it seemed to me that he was greatly touched 
by his interlocutor's confession, and that he fully appre- 
ciated the significance of the conquest over himself 
which the man had made. 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch put on his short fur coat, hooked 
it up tightly, and putting himself to rights in peasant 
fashion — with a movement of the shoulders — he began 
to don and praise the mittens of goat's wool given to 
him by Madame A. ; then he made a general salute, 
and left the room with accelerated steps. 

He was in haste to get home to dinner, and he had 
several versts to traverse before he reached Weaver's 
Lane, where he lives. He does not like to ride in cabs, 
and has recourse to them only in exceptional cases. 



HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 



CHAPTER II 

A week after my first meeting with L. N. Tolstoy, I 
availed myself of his invitation, and about eight o'clock 
in the evening drove, in company with the A.'s, to Dol- 
go-Khamovnitcheskiy Pereulok (Long-Weaver's Lane), 
where the Tolstoys live in winter. They occupy a 
separate two-story wooden house, belonging to one of 
Lyeff Nikolaevitch's sons, Lyeff Lvovitch. 

The small, isolated two-story house to which we drove 
up was situated in a courtyard, and stood out as a dark 
mass against the whitish background of the ancient gar- 
den, sprinkled with hoar frost. The outer principal 
door, and the second door, with a stiff spring, were not 
fastened. Through ignorance I let this second door 
go, and it produced a deafening bang, which brought 
out a courteous lackey in dress-suit, who began to help 
us off with our outer wraps. 

The A.'s were, in part, acquainted with the ways of 
the house at the Tolstoys', and thought that no one but 
ourselves would be there that evening. 

But in the anteroom, on the cloak-rack, there were 
many outer garments, and to the right, upon the wall- 
chests and the pier-tables, lay a motley collection of all 
sorts of caps, fur caps and uniform caps. The servant 
softly inquired of us, Whom were we come to visit, the 
Count or the Countess ? 

The A.'s said that we had come to see the Count. 
The servant announced us, and, a moment later, returned 
with an invitation from the Count. 

On the landing of the broad staircase, with one turn, one 
of Lyeff Nikolaevitch's daughters met us. She greeted 
us unconstrainedly, like intimate friends, and conducted 
us through the large hall where sat several ladies and 
gentlemen. From the hall we entered a narrow corri- 



LIVES AND WORKS 7 

dor, descended several steps, and found ourselves in a 
small, low-studded room, with an iron pipe extending 
across it close to the ceiling. This arrangement of the 
pipe is due to one of L. N. Tolstoy's acquaintances ; its 
peculiarity consists in the fact that, with the aid of a 
lamp, it ventilates and, in part, heats the working cabi- 
net capitally. 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch was sitting at a small writing- 
table, with his foot tucked up under him, engaged in 
writing something by the light of a candle. At our ap- 
pearance he rose, and began to exchange courteous 
greeting, sometimes raising his hand on high, and low- 
ering it again with a gentle movement ; then he gave us 
seats, and began to talk about the book which lay open 
before him, and which he was reading after dinner. It was 
a new French book on social questions. Its style pleased 
him, as did some individual ideas in it, but, on the whole, 
he did not find it satisfactory, and he began to explain 
precisely why it did not satisfy him. 

The solitary candle left the study rather dark, and 
the corners were submerged in gloom. I involuntarily 
cast a glance around the room, where so many immortal 
images had had their birth and been created. 

It was a small, almost square chamber wholly without 
decorations, with a low ceiling and broad windows, 
which looked out on the garden. Beside one window 
stood a small, plain table covered with papers, and a 
half-empty bookcase. 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch's library is at Yasnaya Polyana, 
and in Moscow he keeps only reference books dealing 
with the subject on which he is working. In another 
corner of the study was a broad divan, covered with oil- 
cloth, and by the side of the divan stood a small, round 
table and a few arm-chairs, and this constituted the entire 
furniture of the study, which recalled in its simplicity 
the workroom of Pascal, for whom L. Tolstoy cherishes 
a profound respect in general; and in many points 
he appears as the follower of the French philosopher in 
the matter of habits, as well as in the realm of thought. 
For some time I could not get my bearings, or decide at 



8 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

what height from the earth we were, because the road 
to the study was rather complicated. 

Afterward I learned that Lyeff Nikolaevitch's study 
lies, as it were, between heaven and earth. The fact is 
that when, in the beginning of the '8o's, the whole house 
was in process of being rebuilt, Lyeff Nikolaevitch did 
not wish to yield his study as a sacrifice to the god of 
luxury, and assured the Countess that many extremely 
useful workers lived and labored in incomparably 
worse quarters than he. The study was left in its pre- 
vious condition, but this spoiled the side fagade of the 
house facing the garden. On the other hand, as regards 
quiet and tranquillity, the study was the gainer thereby. 
Far removed from the street noises, and the dwelling- 
rooms, it is always filled with that stillness which is con- 
ducive to meditation. In the spacious, ancient garden, 
upon which the study windows look out, a skating-place 
is arranged in winter ; and there, among other things, is 
situated the well of pure, healthful water, whence Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch, for lack of other physical labor at hand, 
draws water and drives it in a cask for the household 
needs. 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch was in an excellent frame of mind. 
Over his finely modeled lips, unconcealed by mustaches, 
flitted a smile every moment, accompanying humorous 
interpolations. 

Before I knew him, judging from his portraits, I had 
always regarded Lyeff Nikolaevitch as a man locked up 
within himself, and rather gloomy. This is not true. 
He is very sociable, talkative, likes a jest, highly prizes 
humor, and readily has recourse to it. 

During the conversation in the study, one of Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch's daughters entered and said : — 

" Papa, N. has come, and is waiting for you, in order 
to read the article he promised." 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch rose and addressed us : — 

" Do not go away until I return. Here are the new 
journals. Here is an interesting manuscript of a com- 
mon working-man. But I must go and listen to the 
nonsense which N. has written." 



LIVES AND WORKS 9 

I was rather surprised by Lyeff Nikolaevitch's pre- 
diction concerning the work of N., who is considered 
one of the most talented of Russian writers. 

About forty minutes later, Lyeff Nikolaevitch re- 
turned, accompanied by two new visitors, and was visibly 
excited, somewhat suggesting a man who has escaped 
from captivity. 

" I thought so," he began in a rather vexed tone, — 
" that N. would regale us with twaddle. But his new 
nonsense is utterly absurd. At the same time, it is evi- 
dent that he has expended not a little exertion and 
thought upon it. And what an overwhelming phenome- 
non this is, in fact ! " proceeded Lyeff Nikolaevitch, in a 
sorrowful tone. " If it were not a sin, I should sometimes 
like to say, in reproach : ' O Lord, why dost Thou 
reveal much to one man, so that it is plainer to him, 
than that twice two makes four ? And from other men 
Thou concealest everything. And in all their being 
there is not so much as one tiny crack through which 
Thy light can penetrate ? ' " 

We heard the rustle of a gown at the door, and Coun- 
tess Sophia fAndreevna, Lyeff Nikolaevitch's wife, 
entered the study with light, swift tread. She had come 
to iavite her husband's guests up-stairs, to the " big " 
tea, so called to distinguish it from the " children's " tea. 

Countess Sophia Andreevna, Bers by birth, is sixteen 
years younger than her famous husband. At the time 
of which I speak, she was forty-eight years of age. In 
spite of the fact that she has had thirteen children, 1 her 
aspect is still very youthful and full of life. She has an 
open, expressive countenance, with vivacious, fearless 
eyes, which she constantly brings near to the objects at 
which she is looking. At her very first words, one feels her 
straightforward nature. In her manners there is not even 
a shadow of truckling to suit the tone of any one whom- 
soever, but her own individual note is always audible. 

She cordially invited us all to tea, and, chatting viva- 
ciously with Madame A. about some domestic question, 
conducted us up-stairs. 

1 She told me fifteen. — I. F. H. 



io HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

And when she walked, her still beautiful head half 
turned, when she addressed her husband with the word 
Lyevotchka, or interjected into the conversation some re- 
mark, one immediately felt that here reigned, if not har- 
mony, at least complete independence of relations, and 
that each person had his own independent position. 

The spacious, lofty hall which we entered was, also, 
bare of decoration. Almost in the middle of the room 
stood a long, broad table, covered with a white table- 
cloth (prepared for tea), and a row of chairs. On the 
right side of the entrance to the hall stood a grand 
piano, and a small divan with an oval table. All the 
furniture was ancient, of mahogany. This constituted 
the entire decoration. There were neither pictures, nor 
rugs, nor soft furniture. 

But the room did not appear either empty or neg- 
lected. Rather than that, a certain indefinable, noble 
simplicity could be felt in everything. Nothing, in any 
direction, stood forth in an angle, or thrust itself into 
notice. On the contrary, the furniture and the hostess 
and the guests all had a certain peculiar easy and artless 
character. 

At the end of the table a nickel-plated samovar was 
singing, and cups, cream, and cold rolls were standing. 
From the adjoining room, where a richer furnishing was 
visible, youthful voices, peals of laughter, and the sounds 
of stringed instruments were audible. 

The Tolstoys have a very large family, and a vast cir- 
cle of acquaintances. At the time in question, LyefT 
Nikolaevitch's family consisted of six sons and three 
daughters. The young generation were constantly draw- 
ing about them their comrades, relatives, and friends, in 
consequence of which, in the Tolstoys' house, one always 
received the impression that a performance of amateur 
theatricals had been appointed there and that a whole 
flower-garden of young people were preparing for this 
event, filling the entire house with noisy animation in 
which Lyeff Nikolaevitch also occasionally takes part. 
Especially if any amusement is started which demands 
exercise, endurance, and agility, L. N. will, ever and 



LIVES AND WORKS n 

anon, glance at the players and share heartily in their 
successes and failures ; often, too, he cannot restrain 
himself, and mingles in the game, displaying so much 
youthful fervor and suppleness of muscle that one often 
grows envious in watching him. Moreover, L. N. Tol- 
stoy has still another characteristic peculiarity : what- 
ever he does, whether he runs a race with the young 
people, or sews shoes, or seats himself on his bicycle, he 
never, in any situation, is ridiculous. After introducing 
us to the other guests Lyeff Nikolaevitch betook himself 
to the oval table. His appearance evoked a noticeable 
animation, and, like a magnet, began to attract people to 
him. The Countess sat down to the samovar, and, chat- 
ting vivaciously, began to pour out the tea into large, 
thick cups. 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch drank no tea, but later on ate some 
thin oatmeal porridge which he often substitutes for tea 
and supper. He was no longer the same man as in the 
study. Charm and mirth seemed to have fallen from 
him, and it even seemed as though he had grown some- 
what older since he had come from the study into the 
hall. When he is fatigued, or is displeased with any- 
thing, his cheeks sink in and his face assumes a rather 
gloomy character which is the one chiefly reproduced 
in his portraits. 

One of those present had heard from some one that 
L. N. Tolstoy wished to set to work again at his Decern- 
bristSy and asked him about it. 

"No, I have abandoned that work forever," replied 
Lyeff Nikolaevitch, unwillingly. A pause ensued. 

"... because I did not find therein what I sought, 
that is to say, what is of general interest to mankind. 
That whole history had no roots under it," he added, 
with a shade of effort in his voice, merely to avert the 
awkwardness of silence. 

He does not like to have people catechize him about 
his plans. 

Afterward I learned that he had written War and 
Peace accidentally, as it were, by way of an introduc- 
tion to the Decembrists. It came about in this way. 



12 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

With the intention of writing the Decembrists, he began 
to study the epoch which preceded their activity, and 
with that object made the acquaintance of the famous 
Ermoloff and visited him. The events of 1805 and the 
war for the Fatherland in 18 12 attracted the artistic 
feeling of the great writer. He began to group to; 
gether several episodes and, as it were, to attach them 
to each other with facts from his family chronicles. 

And the more deeply "the exacting artist" became 
engrossed in the study of historical materials, the 
broader grew the plan of his new work, which, at last, 
took possession of him and occupied five years of in- 
tense mental labor. But what Lyeff Nikolaevitch has 
printed constitutes only a small fraction of the work 
which he projected and wrote. All the rough drafts of 
War and Peace came near being lost. During a severe 
and prolonged illness of Countess Sophia Andreevna, 
these papers, through the carelessness of some persons 
of the household, were thrown out of the storehouse 
and lay for several months in the ditch. Thanks alone 
to the indefatigable energy and solicitude of Countess 
S. A. Tolstoy, the precious documents were gathered up, 
put in order, and are now in the Rumyantzoff Muzeum, 
in Moscow. 

After the Decembrists, the conversation turned upon 
another of L. N. Tolstoy's unfinished romances — Peter 
the Great. This work Lyeff Nikolaevitch has entirely 
abandoned. 

" There was much in that first matter which seemed 
to me too confused and distant," he said. " Neverthe- 
less, I was personally acquainted with many of the De- 
cembrists, and could avail myself of their information. 
But in the other case, I should have had to invent a 
very great deal. But the principal point is that my 
study of the original sources entirely altered my view of 
Peter I. He lost his former interest for me." 

One of those present touched on the " post-Decem- 
brist " emancipation epoch, and mentioned the brothers 
Aksakoff, Katkoff, Granovsky, Hertzen, and others, with 
all of whom Lyeff Nikolaevitch had been personally 



LIVES AND WORKS 13 

acquainted. At the name of Hertzen Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
brightened up, and narrated how he had met him in 
London. An opinion has gained currency that L. Tol- 
stoy does not acknowledge that Hertzen had literary 
gifts. This is untrue. On the contrary, it is precisely 
his literary gift that he prizes very highly. And when 
the discussion touched that question, a fervent, youth- 
fully fresh note rang out in Lyeff Nikolaevitch' s weary 
voice, a note which always makes its appearance with 
him when he speaks of any genuine gift or fine act. 

" If we were to express by the relations of per- 
centage," said he, "the influence of our writers upon 
society, we should obtain, approximately, the following 
result: Pushkin, thirty per cent; Gogol, fifteen per 
cent ; Turgeneff, ten per cent." 

L. N. Tolstoy enumerated all the prominent Russian 
writers, except himself, and, reckoning Hertzen's share 
at eighteen per cent, he said with conviction : — 

" He was brilliant and profound, which is very rarely 
met with." 

A young artist approached our table. Lyeff Nikolae- 
vitch entered into conversation with him about , his 
works, and passed on to art, from which he demanded, 
not bouquets and cupids, but service rendered to the 
loftiest requirements of the human spirit. He soon 
passed into a passionate tone, and began to talk warmly, 
as he did so hastily knotting and untying a bit of string 
which had happened to come to hand. Some one 
alluded to the huge picture of a certain Moscow artist. 

"Well, then, take that picture," said Lyeff Nikolae- 
vitch, excitedly. " Who wants that coarse daub, which 
simply reeks of the knout? I cannot endure such 
* Russian ' productions. And why those stupid phizes ? 
Who is there that does not know that there are stupid 
phizes in the world ? But art ought always to say some- 
thing new, because it is the expression of the artist's 
inner condition, ani only answers its appointed use 
when the artist gives us something that no one hitherto 
has given, and which cannot be better expressed in any 
other way. There is Gay's Christ before Pilate, — that 



i 4 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

is genuine art, although the picture is badly painted. 
But no one before Gay ever said it in that way, and it 
was impossible to say it by any other means, than as 
Gay did by his tortured Christ, and his well-fed, fat 
Pilate. And Christ and Pilate have always and every- 
where been, and will be, exactly such persons. And see 
how Gay toils over his subjects ! For tens of years he 
studied the life of Christ, and not from the external, 
Palestine side, like others, but from the inside. You 
would go to him at night, and he would be sitting with 
rumpled hair, on the divan, reading the Gospels. And 
there is no other way possible. For art is a vast, a 
mighty instrument." 

Evidently, the young artist did not wholly agree with 
Lyeff Nikolaevitch, and he cautiously began to present 
the idea that, in art, the how, not the what, is important. 

" But, assuredly, Lyeff Nikolaevitch, you recognize 
prayer? " he asked irresolutely. 

" Of course. Is it possible to live without prayer ? " 

"Well, then, for the artist his picture may be a 
prayer. Only, one expresses it by a historical subject, 
another in fantastic images, a third by landscape." 

"Then wall-paper must be reckoned as art," inter- 
rupted Lyeff Nikolaevitch, making a noose in the 
string. 

" But you must admit that a certain landscape may 
have an ennobling effect upon the soul of man. That 
is to say, it may act upon his soul, and in transmission 
it may engender in him a good feeling or prevent his 
perpetrating something bad." 

" And a cat which leaps from the table to the floor 
may prevent something," retorted Lyeff Nikolaevitch, 
intractably, and went on to characterize the conditions 
that constitute something in the nature of false a?'t, 
which people do not need in the least. 

" Nowadays, go where you will," said he, " into a 
book-shop, china-shop, a jeweler's shop, — everywhere 
there is art. And not any amateur art, but patented 
art, with diplomas and gold medals. Go to the theater, 
— and there again is art : some woman or other kicks 



LIVES AND WORKS 15 

her heels higher than her head. And this repulsive 
stupidity is not only not considered improper, but, on 
the contrary, is elevated into something first-class and 
so important for people, that a fixed place is even set 
apart for it in the newspapers, alongside the greatest 
events of the world. Some organs of the press have, 
moreover, regular appraisers, who often drive straight 
from the theater to the printing-office, by night, and 
there, instantly, amid the rumbling of the machines, 
write down their impressions in haste, that on the 
morrow the world may know exactly how, on the pre- 
vious evening, Madame So-and-So kicked up her heels 
in such and such a theater." 

"But God grant that all this may be sifted out, in 
time, and that good, nutritious flour may be obtained as 
a result," remarked one of his hearers. 

" Why must I wait ? " retorted Lyeff Nikolaevitch. 
" Even now I feel the husks in my teeth. The trouble 
is that no end to these husks is visible, because, day by 
day, they are artificially manufactured in the person of 
divers music and art schools, which disfigure thousands 
of young lives. But without these nursery-gardens of 
every sort of lie and routine these young lives might 
have been of use to mankind." 

"Well, very good, Lyeff Nikolaevitch," said one of 
his interlocutors, " we will admit that the musical and 
artistic institutions which exist in Russia really are of 
no profit to the world. We will admit that, and men- 
tally annihilate them. Then what institutions will you 
give us in place of these worthless ones ? " 

"What a strange claim!" ejaculated Lyeff Nikolae- 
vitch, in amazement, shrugging his shoulders. " It 's 
just the same as though a sick man were to come to me 
with a swollen face. The swollen face embarrasses 
him. The swollen face is a burden to him. I cure him 
of the swollen face. Then he turns on me : * And what 
are you going to give me, in place of the swollen face ? ' 
Why, nothing is necessary in place of the swollen 
face.", 

Every one began to laugh. 



1 6 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

A student, with a clever, sympathetic face, entered 
the room unconstrainedly, and politely saluted Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch, who returned his greeting in a friendly 
manner and introduced him to us. The student had 
just come from some meeting, where some one had read 
something about the French writer, Taine, who had re- 
cently died. Lyeff Nikolaevitch became interested in 
the student's narration, but when the latter began, with 
some pathos, to speak of Taine's great merits, Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch interrupted him. 

" What are his great merits ? Why, if the truth were 
to be told, plainly, in Russian, Taine was a tolerably 
dull man." 

The student started, but restrained himself, and said, 
with a smile : — 

" So you mean to say, Lyeff Nikolaevitch, that Taine 
was narrow on some questions." 

" I mean to say exactly what I did say : that Taine 
was, on the whole, a narrow man, otherwise it is impos- 
sible to explain his efforts to reduce the influence of 
man in the history of mankind almost to a cipher, and 
relegate the chief role to various factors, like water, 
clay, and so forth. Is not that stupidity ? But how 
about Buddha! How about Christ! Did not they 
change the forms of life of millions of men ? For clay 
and water cannot progress, but only living life led by 
the spirit, which sheds abroad in successive aspects its 
influence upon the most remote ages and genera- 
tions." 

The student listened with respect to Lyeff Nikolae- 
vitch, with one hand thrust under the edge of his uni- 
form, but evidently he did not entirely agree with him. 
At his last words he bowed slightly, and said : — 

" But anthropology proves — " 

" What can be proved by anthropology which, itself, 
still stands in need of proof ? It was invented in order 
to obtain the greater wages." 

"You deny — " 

" Wages ? I never thought of such a thing." 

" But, anthropology is not manufactured out of one's 



LIVES AND WORKS 17 

own head, but deduced from facts, obtained by scientific 
investigators — " 

" What facts ? The investigator arrives on the coast, 
and, with the aid of a dull interpreter, inquires their 
ways and habits ; the interpreter lies about the whole 
thing, and the investigator carefully writes down, and 
adds something or other of his own." 

The student began to be agitated. 

I looked at Lyeff Nikolaevitch, and I seemed to see 
spread out before me those stormy scenes in Nekrasoff' s 
lodgings, which took place in the '5o's, when young, 
impetuous Count L. Tolstoy, presenting a living em- 
bodiment of Tchatsky, 1 played in St. Petersburg literary 
circles the part of gadfly, and in the harshest form ex- 
pressed his protests against everything which seemed to 
him conventional and false. 

"You cannot imagine what scenes there were," re- 
lates D. B. Grigorovitch. " Oh, heavens ! Turgeneff 
would squeak and squeak, clutch his throat with his 
hand, and, with the eyes of a dying gazelle, would 
whisper : — 

" ' I can endure no more. I have bronchitis.' 

" ' Bronchitis,' Tolstoy would growl out immediately 
after; ' bronchitis — is an imaginary malady — bron- 
chitis is a mental — ' 

" Nekrasoff 's heart died within him ; he was afraid to 
lose both Turgeneff and Tolstoy, in whom, he instinc- 
tively felt, lay the chief strength of the Contemporary. 
He had to manceuver. All are irritated. They do 
not know what to say. Tolstoy is lying in the middle 
of the room which serves as corridor, on a morocco- 
covered divan, and sulking, while Turgeneff, parting 
the skirts of his short pea-jacket, with hands thrust into 
his pockets, continues to stride back and forth through 
all three rooms. With the object of averting a catas- 
trophe, D. Grigorovitch approaches Tolstoy. 

" * My dear Tolstoy, do not be vexed. You do not 
know how he values and loves you.' 

" ' I will not permit him to do anything to harm me,' 

1 The hero of Griboydeff's famous comedy, The Misfortune of Wit. — Tr- 



1 8 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

says Tolstoy, with swelling nostrils. ' Here he is march- 
ing to and fro past me, and wagging his democratic 
haunches.' " 

I involuntarily recall that scene, when L. Tolstoy, 
the first time he spent the evening with Panaeff, could 
not restrain his tendency to disputations, and hotly 
began to talk of precisely the thing which D. Grigoro- 
vitch had begged him not to mention to Panaeff. 

And when I gazed at Lyeff Nikolaevitch during his 
dispute with the student, it became clear to me pre- 
cisely why he behaved so demonstratively toward Tur- 
geneff in the literary circles of St. Petersburg. 

By virtue of his nature, Lyeff Tolstoy cannot pass 
over in silence the phenomenon which he considers 
monstrous, just as the sea cannot remain tranquil when 
the wind rises. This is a property of his nature. It 
imparts vast strength to Lyeff Tolstoy, but, at the same 
time, it creates for him an inward hell, before which the 
tragedy of soul which Hamlet experienced must pale. 

Countess Sophia Andreevna approached Lyeff Niko- 
laevitch, and said, in a low voice, that several of the 
guests wished to occupy themselves with music. Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch rose with alacrity, threw away the string, 
and, as though gliding on ice, nastily betook himself to 
the large table. On learning that they proposed to 
begin by playing Wieniawski (piano and violin), and 
then Beethoven (piano, violin, and violoncello), he set 
to work to arrange everything as soon as possible. He 
hunted up the music, helped to raise the lid of the 
piano, and when all was in readiness, he sat down, with 
a concentrated manner, on one side, and listened atten- 
tively to the music. At the end of each piece he rose, 
and, thrusting his left hand into the belt of his blouse, 
he walked, with body bent forward, to the performers, 
thanked them for the pleasure they had given him, and 
made subtile comments on the more successful passages. 

And, as I looked at that delicate and well-bred man, 
from whose every word shone forth sensitiveness, it was 
difficult to imagine him as the vehement protester, lying 
with inflated nostrils on the divan, and unwilling to 



i 



LIVES AND WORKS 



19 



yield so much as an iota to one of the most inoffensive 
men in the world. 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch's praise gave the performers great 
pleasure, and with visible cheerfulness they executed 
several more pieces at his request. Whether he did 
this in order to afford pleasure to his guests, or with the 
object of obtaining a little respite from the fatiguing 
conversation, or whether he yielded to his passion for 
music, — who knows? Perhaps all these motives were 
intermingled within him. But he listened with concen- 
tration, with 'attention, with head bowed, and gently 
moving the fingers of his clasped hands. 






2o HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 



CHAPTER III 

Three weeks later I happened again to be at the Tol- 
stoys'. Again they had many visitors, and again, after 
tea, began something in the nature of a concert section. 
One of the ladies sang. But, evidently, the singing 
displeased the boys. They went into the adjoining 
room and made a noise there. Lyeff Nikolaevitch lost 
his patience and went after the boys. 

" Are you making a noise on purpose ? " he asked. 

After some hesitation came an answer in the affirma- 
tive : — 

"Y-y-yes." 

" Does not her singing please you ? " 

" Well, no. Why does she howl ? " declared one of 
the boys, with vexation. 

" So you wish to protest against her singing ? " asked 
Lyeff Nikolaevitch, in a serious tone. 

" Yes ! " 

" Then go out and say so, or stand in the middle of 
the room and tell every one present. That would be 
rude, but upright and honest. But you have got to- 
gether and are squealing like grasshoppers in a corner. 
I will not endure such protests." 

Nevertheless, the protester did not follow the advice 
of Lyeff Nikolaevitch, but only burst out laughing and 
became silent. 

I afterward learned that very rarely is there an eve- 
ning when there are no guests at the Tolstoys'. They 
tried to establish fixed days for receptions, but it ended 
in nothing. On the reception days the friends of Coun- 
tess Sophia Andreevna chiefly assembled, and on the 
other days, beginning from seven o'clock in the eve- 
ning, the outer door with the spring began to bang as be- 
fore, and to admit various visitors to Lyeff Nikolaevitch. 



LIVES AND WORKS 21 

And who all did not come to that little wooden house, 
painted a dark ocher ? Learned men and writers, painters 
and artists, statesmen and financiers, governors, secta- 
rians, officials of the County Council, senators, students, 
military men, factory laborers, peasants, correspondents 
of all shades and nationalities, and so forth and so on. 
Not a winter's day passed by without some new face 
making its appearance in Long- Weaver's Lane, in quest 
of an interview with the celebrated Russian writer. 

But all his visitors may be divided into two principal 
categories : 1, "spectators," who present themselves to 
L. Tolstoy exclusively as to a celebrity, and 2, " the 
heavy-laden," that is, those who seek from Lyeff Niko- 
laevitch cooperation, advice, aid. 

The "spectators," in the majority of cases, depart 
from L. N. Tolstoy disenchanted, and only pretend to 
be in ecstasies over him. In reality, he does not give 
them that which they seek and which he might give 
them. Although he is an idealist in his views, he can- 
not, nevertheless, endure idle conversations, and is in- 
clined only to businesslike, practical conversations. 

As he possesses a keen, penetrating mind, and wide 
experience of life, he frequently with one glance grasps . 

the inward contents of the visitor, and immediately 
places himself upon a footing of perfect equality with 
him, or, as it were, freezes up himself. 

It was announced to L. Tolstoy that a strange lady 
wished to see him. He was not at leisure, but he re- 
ceived her, and, in a businesslike tone, inquired what 
she wanted. On seeing him, his visitor became embar- y 

rassed, but mastered her emotion, and announced with 
decision : — 

" I have read your last work, and was brought to a 
stop by several passages. They are incomprehensible 
to me." 

" So that 's it ! " said Lyeff Nikolaevitch, brightening 
up ; and, inviting his visitor to his study, he spent several 
hours in conversation with her. 

They parted friends, and, in speaking of her, he 
always seemed, as it were, to be illuminated from within. 



22 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

One day some one said, in his presence, that she ought 
to be valued at her weight in gold. He corrected 
this: — 

" No, no ! She ought to be valued at her weight in 
the most precious stones." 

Another female visitor came to him in order to place 
her large property at his disposal. He was touched, 
but declined the proposal. 

" God protect us from such huge sums ! One in- 
fallibly gets into trouble with them." 

Lyeff Tolstoy's popularity often occasions him comi- 
cal encounters, which he himself sometimes tells about 
afterward with inimitable comicalness. One day, in 
Moscow, he was walking along a narrow sidewalk, when 
an extremely drunken man crawled, staggering, along 
to meet him. When the stranger caught sight of Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch, he came to anchor, as it were, and with 
twisting tongue inquired : — 

" Count Tolstoy ? — Y-yes ? " 

"Yes." 

" I am your adorer and imitator," said the fellow, with 
feeling, and respectfully made way for his exemplar. 

On another occasion a certain citizen presented him- 
self before Lyeff Nikolaevitch, and announced: — 

" I should like to go over to your Illustrious Highnesses 
creed r 

Still more amusing was the appearance of two Ameri- 
can women. One day, Lyeff Nikolaevitch was informed 
that two American women wished to see him, and that 
they had come to Moscow for that special purpose. He 
received them, and entered into conversation. 

The Americans announced with much aplomb that 
they had performed something in the nature of a feat, 
namely, they had made a tour of the globe, having set 
out from different points in America, with the agree- 
ment that they were to meet in Moscow to see "the 
great writer of the Russian land." And behold, they 
had accomplished the aim they had in view, and were 
content that they had carried out their mission. He 
smiled, and said : — 



LIVES AND WORKS 23 

" But I think that you might have made a better use 
of your time." 

One of the Americans exclaimed : — 

"I was convinced that Leo Tolstoy would infallibly 
say something of that sort." 

And, overflowing with satisfaction, the grateful visitors 
took their leave of L. N. Tolstoy. 

As he hardly ever refuses to receive any one, Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch on some days is greatly fatigued by visit- 
ors, because some of them often demand an augmenta- 
tion of patience and great endurance. An "admirer" 
arrives, and after a lyrical preface begins to demonstrate 
that he is in extreme need of a certain sum of money, 
and so extraordinarily in need that there is nothing to 
be done but to take it out and hand it over. 

"But I have no money," declares Lyeff Nikolaevitch. 

" It cannot be. You are a millionaire. Moreover, 
your works bring you in an income of tens of thousands. 
In conclusion, every line of yours is, so to speak, capital 
of a certain sort." 

" Nevertheless, I cannot comply with your request." 

"This is inhuman, Count! Then why do you preach 
about self-sacrifice, when you refuse me a paltry twenty- 
five rubles, which are absolutely necessary to me ? This 
is the fourth month that I have been walking the streets 
of Moscow from morning till night, in order to get my- 
self a ticket to Kaluga. Understand, Count, I have 
been walking, in vain, for four months." 

" But in that space of time you might have walked to 
Kaluga several times over." 

This comment dumfounded the visitor for a moment. 
But he promptly recovered himself, and, with complete 
conviction of his own uprightness, began to demonstrate 
that he could not travel on foot, like a common peasant, 
and eat whatever came to hand, because he was of a 
good family, and not in a condition to eat bad food ; he 
must have good food. 

Some visitors go even farther, and make downright 
threats to kill themselves if their request is not complied 
with. 



24 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

Such visits always greatly disturb Lyeff" Nikolaevitch. 

"You look at a visitor of that sort," said he one day, 
" and you feel dreadfully. You perceive that such peo- 
ple are precisely the ones who are capable of anything, 
except of making a moral effort over themselves. Such 
a spectacle is terrible ! " 

A painful impression is also produced upon him by 
visitors who present themselves to him for the purpose 
of enlisting him in some cause which is contrary to the 
principles of his soul. He experienced something of 
that sort in connection with the visit of the well-known 
French poet Deroulede, who came to Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
with the object of enticing him with his idea of "re- 
venge." In the end, Lyeff Nikolaevitch, who, generally, 
treats foreigners with particular cordiality, could endure 
it no longer, and replied with vehemence to Deroulede's 
tirade : — 

" The frontiers of kingdoms should be determined, not 
by the sword and blood, but by the rational agreement 
of nations. And when there are no longer any people 
who do not understand this, then there will be no more 
wars." 

Thereupon, L. N. rose, and, in much agitation, left the 
room. 

This scene created a sensation. Deroulede took um- 
brage, and when Lyeff Nikolaevitch returned, he in- 
formed him that he considered his reasoning artificial, 
because the first Russian peasant you might meet would 
certainly reason more justly ; and, in proof of the justice 
of his cause, Deroulede proposed that his appeal should 
be translated into Russian for the first Russian peasant 
at hand. Lyeff Nikolaevitch assented. They set out 
for a walk. Prokofiy, a peasant of Yasnaya Polyana, 
met them. L. N. called him up, and translated Derou- 
lede's pathetic harangue to the effect that the Russians 
and the French are brethren, but that between them 
stands the German, who prevents them from embracing 
each other, and therefore Deroulede proposed that Pro- 
kofiy should lend a hand to squeeze the fat out of the 
German. 



LIVES AND WORKS 25 

Prokofiy listened attentively, reflected, and said : — 
" No, Master, let it, rather, be in this way : Do you 
French work, and we Russians will also work, and after 
our toil is over, we will go to the public-house, and we 
will take the German with us." 

This combination did not satisfy Ddroulede. 



26 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 



CHAPTER IV 

The female visitors who come to Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
sometimes join hysterics to their persistent demands. 

One lady made her appearance and announced that 
she absolutely must have, in all haste, several thousand 
rubles, and that it was perfectly easy for adorable Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch to do her that favor, because he was so 
kind, so good, and, probably, would not take upon his 
soul all the results which his refusal would entail. He 
endeavored, in every way, to calm his visitor. But noth- 
ing would calm her except the stated sum, and not one 
kopek less. On being refused, the visitor uttered a 
shriek, and fell down in a so-called swoon. She was re- 
stored to consciousness, and offered a small sum of 
money for her traveling expenses. She took it, and de- 
parted with disenchanted aspect. 

Ladies, in general, very frequently vanquish Lyeff" 
Nikolaevitch, by expressing their sympathy and their 
wishes in such a theatrical form, as almost always in- 
duces in him a state of irritation, and then upon his 
features a very harsh and bristling quality makes its 
appearance, which reminds one of old Prince Bolkonsky, 
in War and Peace. 

Some women visitors present themselves, and imme- 
diately say : — 

" Lyeff Nikolaevitch, teach us life ! " 

Such demonstrative apparitions always put him out 
of countenance. 

In the winter of 1896, after the first representation in 
the Little Theater, Moscow, of The Power of Darkness, 
a crowd of students betook themselves straight from the 
theater to Weaver's Lane, to L. N. Tolstoy, " in order to 
express to him their sentiments of gratitude and love." 

The students thronged about the gates of the house 



LIVES AND WORKS 27 

where L. N. lives, and began to hold a council, as to 
how they should proceed to carry out their premeditated 
plan. Was it timely to present themselves at such an 
hour, even with the object of expressing kind feelings ? 
Lyeff Nikolaevitch might be already asleep at that 
moment But Lyeff Nikolaevitch was making a call 
at the time, and returned home with one of his friends 
just as the students were discussing the matter. He 
was very much astonished at the unusual assemblage in 
Weaver's Lane, and, slipping unperceived through the 
ranks of the students, he entered the yard. But they 
instantly divined the identity of the old man who had 
entered the house, and they cautiously rang the bell. 

" We have come to express to Lyeff Nikolaevitch our 
profound gratitude for The Power of Darkness" said the 
spokesman. 

When he was informed of the students' request, he 
became extremely embarrassed. 

" Why are they doing this ? What shall I say to 
them?" 

And when, a few minutes later, the throng of students 
entered the vestibule, and one of them, mounting a chair, 
in an agitated voice addressed a greeting to Lyeff Niko- 
laevitch, while the others darted forward to kiss his 
hands, he was agitated, and, for some time, could not 
speak. 

Something similar took place also at the time of the 
last Congress of Naturalists in Moscow. 

L. N. Tolstoy went to hear the report of his old 

friend, Professor Tz . Some one present, perceiving 

LyefT Nikolaevitch, ejaculated in a challenging whis- 
per : — 

" Lyeff Nikolaevitch is here ! " 

These words ran through the hall like lightning. 
Every one began to look about, to see the famous writer. 
Lyeff Nikolaevitch felt that one of those hypnotizing 
scenes which he has always avoided was beginning, and 
tried to slip out unperceived. 

The vast throng which filled the University hall was 
stirred, and shouted : — 



28 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

" Lyeff Nikolaevitch ! Lyeff Nikolacvitch ! " 
Finally, the managers were obliged to request Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch to occupy the place of honor on the plat- 
form. The walls trembled with the applause wherewith 
the naturalists greeted the great Russian writer. This 
scene greatly disturbed L. N., and he does not like to 
recall it. But every simple, artless expression of sym- 
pathy touches him deeply. And if some of his visitors 
sometimes cause him displeasure, others, on the con- 
trary, afford him lofty gratification, by laying bare before 
him whole beds of spiritual riches. 

In one of his letters, Lyeff Nikolaevitch writes : — 
" It is joyful to hear of influence over other people, 
because only then are you convinced that the fire within 
you is genuine when it sets aflame." And this sweet- 
ness of consciousness Lyeff Nikolaevitch sometimes 
extracts from his incessant association with people. 

And w r ho knows whether he could understand men's 
characters on all sides, and so delicately feel the pulse 
of mankind, without these daily encounters and con- 
versations ? 

To sit out an evening at his house occasionally means 
to enter immediately into the current of the most vitally 
interesting questions, which are agitating the thoughtful 
part of society at the moment, and to make acquaintance 
with the representatives of all possible classes and 
tendencies. 



_s_ 



LIVES AND WORKS 29 



CHAPTER V 

Evening is drawing on. The clock has struck seven, 
Lyeff Nikolaevitch is sitting, after dinner, in his study, 
with his leg tucked up under him, and listening with 
great interest to a young scientific man, who is telling 
about a new theory of light ; from time to time he touches 
the hand of his interlocutor in a friendly manner, and 
makes brief remarks, which show that the question is 
perfectly clear to him. The servant announces the 
arrival of a village schoolmaster, who has come from 
the South. A gentleman enters, attired in Russian 
fashion, with sunburned face and irresolute manners. 
But he talks calmly, and expresses his thoughts clearly. 
A conversation arises concerning the situation of the 
school question in Russia, which Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
takes greatly to heart, having practical knowledge 
thereof, as the organizer of schools in Yasnaya Polyana. 

A new visitor makes his appearance, well known for 
his activity in country matters. He has a whole budget 
of news, touching favorable enterprises in the realm of 
agriculture. 

A spirited conversation begins about communal farm- 
ing, about agricultural workmen's associations, about 
intelligent tillage. Lyeff Nikolaevitch feels a vivid 
sympathy " for the movement in the country," but con- 
siders the occupation of agriculture a very difficult 
problem for contemporary educated people. 

"That is so plain," said he; "the peasant fixes the 
price of grain. That means that one must reduce one's 
budget and the cost of production to his rule ; that is to 
say, one must also limit one's wants as the peasant has 
limited them. But is that easy for the contemporary 
man, who is weak and incapable of tenacious physical 
toil ? There is the American, who, when he hires a field 



3 o HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

laborer, first of all steps up and feels the man's muscles. 
1 Good for nothing,' he says, and walks off. And, in 
truth, without firm muscles, what sort of workman is 
he ? " 

New visitors make their appearance : a Moscow finan- 
cier, then a lady who lives in England. 

A conversation begins with her about England, about 
several members of Parliament with whom she is ac- 
quainted, and about English Laborers' Associations. 

A student and a scholar in the Gymnasium enter the 
study. The Gymnasium scholar gives Lyeff Nikolae- 
vitch a new collection of poems by a new poetess, con- 
cerning whose writings Lyeff Nikolaevitch has heard a 
great deal, and has desired to make acquaintance with 
them. 

He thanks the Gymnasium lad, opens the book, reads 
a few lines, and laughs. 

" Listen, for heaven's sake ! " he says, moving his 
seat closer to the light, and he reads aloud a very poeti- 
cal poem. 

But at the end he pauses, and in perplexity delivers 
the last line, which is distinguished by a pungently 
erotic character. 

"Why was not she ashamed to print that?" asks 
Lyeff Nikolaevitch, in amazement ; then he turns over 
a few leaves, again reads aloud a poem, and again it 
ends with an erotic aroma. Lyeff Nikolaevitch closes 
the book in despair, and pushes it away from him. 

The conversation passes on to contemporary literature. 

L. N. Tolstoy reads a very great deal, and in this 
respect follows the rule which Auguste Comte called 
hygiene of the brain. In addition to the Russian and 
foreign journals and newspapers which he receives, his 
friends send him everything of the slightest importance 
which makes its appearance in print ; in consequence of 
which, a conversation with L. N. Tolstoy on literature 
always assumes the most interesting character ; one 
learns of many novelties with which one would never 
have succeeded in making acquaintance to the end of 
one's days. 



LIVES AND WORKS 31 

Sometimes the character of the visitors is even more 
varied; side by side with a magister of philosophy 
sits a sunburned peasant, who has come from the South 
and who good-naturedly addresses L. N. Tolstoy as 
grandfather. 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch's unconstraint and simplicity pre- 
vent these motley assemblies from shocking any one. 
Here every one feels himself at home, and, at the same 
time, close to the others, in consequence of which L. N. 
Tolstoy's Moscow study presents a sort of All-Russia 
junction, through which have passed, during the last 
ten years, not a few intellectual and artistic treasures. 



32 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 



CHAPTER VI 

Although L. N. Tolstoy loves friendly conversation, 
and friendly sociability with people, nevertheless he 
cherishes an almost unhealthy antipathy to everything 
ceremonial, populous, or crowded, in consequence of 
which he very rarely makes his appearance in social 
gatherings, and obstinately keeps away from all festivi- 
ties, jubilees, and other thronged places, confining him- 
self to attending a few public lectures which possess 
some special interest. 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch visits the theater also very seldom, 
and always watches his chance to slip in unperceived, 
and to occupy a seat where he can be seen as little as 
possible. 

In the winter of 1895, when he began his work on 
Art, he happened, for a time, to get into the theatrical 
zone and visited the theaters, talked with the actors, 
and even read his play, The Power of Darkness, to the 
artists of the Little Theater, in the theater office. 

But a year later he looked upon this as a mistaken 
enthusiasm, and when an acquaintance began to entice 
Lyeff Nikolaevitch with a new opera, he said, with a 
smile : — 

" No, no ! I only kicked over the traces in that way 
last year, but now I have sunk to the bottom for good." 

His visits to the theater did not satisfy him. 

I happened to see him after a representation of King 
Lear. He was dissatisfied with the manner in which he 
had spent his evening, and said : — 

" I gazed at those grimaces and thought : but war 
must be waged against all this. How much routine 
there is in it which overwhelms the truth. Ruskin said 
that Shakespeare had no villains. What nonsense ! 
Edmund is a thorough, conventional villain." 



LIVES AND WORKS 33 

Neither did T/ie Power of Darkness satisfy him on the 
stage. 

" In the case whence I borrowed that theme," said he, 
" Nikita, in a fit of delirium, kills his wife with a cart- 
shaft, and only then does the moral rupture take place 
within him. It seemed to me that that would be excess- 
ive. But my fears were vain ; I ought to have intro- 
duced that scene." 

" And how did the acting of it please you ? " I 
asked. 

"That was all right. Only the actors make great 
efforts to be natural. That should not be done. The 
performers ought to conceal their intentions. Generally, 
as soon as you perceive that they are trying to work on 
your feelings or to make you laugh, you immediately 
begin to experience the diametrically opposite sentiment. 
And the characters in The Power of Darkness are not in 
the least the people I thought them to be. Nikita is not 
a fop, he is not a dashing young sprig, but merely an 
offshoot of city culture. Akim does not * discourse ' 
when he talks ; he makes great efforts, he hurries and 
perspires with the exertion of thought. He ought to be 
nervous and restless." 

A little later, Lyeff Nikolaevitch again spoke about 
King Lear, and, as he felt hungry, he turned to his 
daughters : — 

" Regan ! Goneril ! is your old father to have any 
oatmeal porridge to-day ? " 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch is not very enthusiastic over Shake- 
speare in general, and, as it seems to me, he is insuffi- 
ciently acquainted with him in detail. He never quotes 
him and does not reenforce his speech with the winged 
thoughts in which Shakespeare is so rich. But, for ex- 
ample, Lyeff Nikolaevitch quite frequently introduces, 
in German, different poetical fragments from Goethe, 
although, at the same time, he does not belong to the 
latter' s warm admirers, but thoroughly shares Heine's 
opinion, that Goethe is a great man in a silken coat. 
With Heine's works L. N. made real acquaintance 
only of late, and was much carried away with them. 



34 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

In the midst of the most vehement conversation, he 
sometimes pauses and, raising his head, he recites in a 
masterly manner, in German, one of Heine's poems 
which bears upon the conversation. The poem en- 
titled, Lass die frommen Hypotesen, pleases him in 
particular. 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch has been obliged to refresh his 
memory of Schiller of late also. The work of Schiller 
which pleases him most is The Robbers, because of its 
youthful, fervent language. 

" Don Carlos is not the same," he says. " But the 
principal thing which repels me in Don Carlos is that 
which I never can endure, — the exclusive nature of the 
situation. In my opinion, it is exactly the same as if one 
were to take the Siamese Twins for heroes." 

Until the other day, Lyeff Nikolaevitch knew noth- 
ing whatever about Bernier, and read several of his 
articles with great satisfaction. 

But, on the other hand, in the realm of philosophical 
literature he is extremely well read, and, in that direc- 
tion, it is hardly probable that any of the Russian 
writers could be placed on a level with him. 

An extraordinary thing happened with Lyeff Niko- 
laevitch's collection of Western writers. When he was 
abroad, in the '50's, he purchased the works of the 
prominent European authors in the original languages. 

"But, alas! " he said, with a comic sigh, "they took 
all those books away from me on the frontier for ex- 
amination, and — they are still examining them." 

Among Lyeff Tolstoy's favorite thinkers and writers 
are : Socrates, Epictetus, Pascal, J. J. Rousseau, Victor 
Hugo, Dickens, and so forth. J. J. Rousseau has had 
more influence than all the rest on his spiritual organi- 
zation. 

" I deified Rousseau to such a degree," said Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch one day, "that, at one time, I wished to 
have his portrait inserted in a locket and wear it on 
my breast instead of a holy picture (ifcona)." 

Nevertheless, it was not J. J. Rousseau, but Sterne, 
who imparted to Lyeff Nikolaevitch his first impulse 



LIVES AND WORKS 3 $ 

to write. He once confessed as much to a Gymnasium 
scholar, who asked him at what age he began to write. 
Lyeff Nikolaevitch smiled, and said : — 

" And you are afraid that you are too old ? My first 
work was written at the age of sixteen. It was a philo- 
sophical treatise after the manner of Sterne." 



36 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 



CHAPTER VII 

Among Russian writers, Lermontoff exercised the 
greatest influence on L. N. Tolstoy. To this day he 
cherishes a warm feeling for him, and values in him 
that quality which he calls seeking. Bereft of that 
quality, he considers the talent of a writer incom- 
plete and, as it were, defective. The role of the writer, 
in his opinion, should include two indispensable prop- 
erties : artistic talent and understanding, — that is to 
say, the purified side of mind, which is capable of 
penetrating into the actuality of phenomena and giv- 
ing the loftiest view of the world of its time. 

Among the Russian contemporaries of L. N. Tolstoy, 
D. Grigorovitch had some influence upon his literary 
formation. But L. N. Tolstoy is indebted for literary 
development and tendency more than to any one else 
to his elder brother, Nikolai, — a man with a brilliant, 
noble, and finely cultured heart. 

L. N. Tolstoy has always regarded TurgenefT as a 
leading man, well educated and very talented ; but his 
productions in the realm of belles-lettres, with the ex- 
ception of The Diary of a Sportsman, never evoked 
rapture in L. N., and, of course, he could not nourish 
himself on them. 

A very characteristic episode once occurred with him, 
which may have served, in part, to intensify the shadow 
which lay between Turgeneff and L. Tolstoy. 

In i860 L. Tolstoy went to visit Turgeneff in the 
country. The latter, just at that time, had completed 
his romance Fathers and Children, and attributed great 
importance to his new work, expressing a desire to learn 
L. N. Tolstoy's opinion of it. The latter took the manu- 
script, lay down with it on the divan in the study, and 
began to read. But the romance appeared to him so 



LIVES AND WORKS 37 

artificially constructed and so insignificant in contents 
that he could not overcome the weariness which seized 
upon him, and — he fell asleep. 

" I awoke," he relates, " with a queer sort of sensa- 
tion, and when I opened my eyes I beheld Turgeneff' s 
gigantic figure retiring from the study." 

All that day something seemed to be suspended 
between them. 

But Tolstoy esteems Turgeneff very highly as the 
author of The Diary of a Sportsman, and considers his 
descriptions of nature as not only superb, but as un- 
attainable by any other writer whomsoever. 

L. N. Tolstoy treats Dostoevsky as an artist with 
profound respect, and considers some of his things — 
especially Crime and Punishment — as wonderful. But 
there is much in Dostoevsky that repels him. Some 
writers L. N. Tolstoy does not recognize at all, as it 
were. In this category belong Melnikoff-Petchersky, 
Pomyalovsky, Ryeschetnikoff, and a number of the 
contemporary literary workers. Among the popular 
writers, L. N. Tolstoy always speaks with animation 
of Slyeptzoff. 

It is a fact not devoid of interest that L. N. Tolstoy 
gave to Turgeneff the idea of the little literary sketches 
which afterward appeared in print under the title of 
Poems in Prose. He himself tried his powers in that 
style of writing, but made a failure of it. He once 
wrote a little thing of that sort, and sent it to I. Aksa- 
koff's journal, Russia, over the name of an old woman, 
Natalya Petrovna, who lived with the Tolstoys. But 
shortly afterward I. Aksakoff returned the manuscript, 
with a polite excuse that he could not print it because 
the author was, as yet, insufficiently skilled in the art 
of expression. 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch experienced the genuine writer's 
fever while he was in the Caucasus, — that is to say, 
when he was twenty-one years of age. Dissatisfied with 
the idle life which he was leading in the circle of his 
comrades, and pining with homesickness for his native 
land, L. N. began to transport himself in imagination 



38 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

to familiar spots. This afforded him such lofty pleas- 
ure that he decided to fix some recollections on paper, 
and he began to jot them down. Thus Childhood was 
composed. Dreams of literary glory arose later on. 
As he obeyed in his creative work the imperative ne- 
cessity which lay in his soul, so he drew forth from 
his soul that peculiar tone with which this remarkable 
work is permeated. He no longer places any special 
value on it. 

Once upon a time, Lyeff Nikolaevitch was driving, 
with an acquaintance of his, in a public cab, in Moscow. 
The driver recognized him, and, turning round, said : — 

" I have read a great many of your books, your Illus- 
trious Highness ! I have read The Prisoners of the 
Caticasus, I have read Master and Workman ; I have 
also read about merchant Aksenoff {God sees the truth 
but will not speedily reveal it). Everything gave me 
great pleasure. But I have not been able, by any 
means, to get your book Childhood and Boyhood. They 
say it is a go-o-od book ! " 

L. N. Tolstoy chatted with the cabman and said to 
him : — 

" If you are so fond of reading, come to me, and I 
will give you books." 

"Will you give me Childhood and Boyhood V asked 
the cabman, with animation. 

" No, that is a frivolous little book. In my youth I 
wrote a great deal of nonsense. I will give you Walk 
in the Light while tJiere is Light. That is far better 
than Childhood and Boyhood." 

But Lyeff Nikolaevitch's companion said to the cab- 
man : — 

" Nevertheless, do you get and read Childhood and 
Boyhood. Don't believe that it is a 'frivolous' book. 
It 's a go-o-od little book, brother ! " 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch made no reply. 

But, on the following day, when the cabman came to 
him for books, he did not give him Childhood and Boy- 
hood, nevertheless, as though he did not wish to take 
that sin upon his soul. 



LIVES AND WORKS 



39 



But we cannot regard Childhood and Boyhood in that 
light. That work possesses, in our eyes, a double value, 
— both from the artistic standpoint and from the his- 
torical-literary standpoint. It gave an impetus to the 
genius of LyefT Tolstoy, and, having secured for him 
a conspicuous success in the literary world, helped him 
to effect the change from the military to the literary 
career. 

And with what sympathy, nervously straining to 
youthful conceit, his first steps in literature were 
welcomed, may be judged from the fact that, in the 
briefest possible time, L. Tolstoy was reckoned among 
the vanguard of literature ; and, both in the illustrations 
and the caricatures of that period, he was depicted, as 
an equal among equals, with the most famous writers 
of the day : Gontcharoff, Turgeneff, Nekrasoff, Ostrov- 
sky, and so forth. 

The remarkable charm of simplicity and sincerity in 
Childhood and Boyhood captivated every one. 

In his Youth there is a poetical chapter, in which 
L. N. describes how once, early in the morning, he gave 
himself up to the contemplation of his surroundings, 
and "tears, as of some unsatisfied but agitating joy," 
involuntarily sprang to his eyes. Once I told him of 
what I always thought when I read that chapter. He 
listened to me, and, after a considerable pause, he de- 
clared, as though recalling something, that when he wrote 
that chapter, he had experienced precisely those thoughts 
which I had mentioned. Behold the great secret of art, 
which knows no limits, either of time or of space. 

The majority of the persons introduced in Childhood 
and Boyhood, and in Youth, are taken directly from life. 
Only, many people are mistaken when they think that 
the father introduced by L. N. Tolstoy in Childhood 
and Boyhood is his own father. He is Islenieff, Coun- 
tess Sophia Andreevna's grandfather, a neighbor of the 
Tolstoys on his estate. Lyeff Nikolaevitch's grand- 
father, Count Ilya Andreevitch Tolstoy, was the spend- 
thrift of his day, and squandered, in addition to his own 
very considerable property, the still greater property of 



4 o HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

his wife, by birth a Princess Gortchakoff. How prodi- 
gal he was may be judged from the fact that he did not 
have his linen washed in Russia, but sent it, by special 
wagons, to Holland. 

His son Nikolai (the father of L. N. Tolstoy), on 
the contrary, was distinguished for his persistent, toil- 
some perseverance. When, after his father's death, he 
found himself without means, he assumed all his father's 
liabilities, and, by degrees, satisfied all the creditors, 
though he had on his hands various relatives, among 
whom was Mme. T. A. Ergoloff, who afterward reared 
Lyeff Nikolaevitch. 




COUNT TOLSTOY DURING THE WORKING SEASON 

IN THE COUNTRY 

From a Sketch by L, Pasternak 



4 o 



HO 






Lyeti 



»5iOW 3HT OHIflUCI Y0T2J0T TWUOO 
YflTHUOO 3HT MI 

J YH HDT3*2 A MOflT 



LIVES AND WORKS 4 i 



CHAPTER VIII 

In the family chronicles of the Counts Tolstoy, there 
is one very interesting episode. The father of Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch, in 1813, after the siege of Erfurt, was 
sent to St. Petersburg with despatches, and on his way 
back, in the hamlet of Saint Obi, he was taken prisoner 
together with his serf -orderly. The latter, without be- 
ing observed, concealed all his master's money in his 
boot, and for a period of several months, during which 
they were imprisoned, he never once took off his boots 
and foot-cloths. His leg became chafed, and a sore was 
formed, but he never even showed, during all that time, 
that he was suffering. But, after the entry into Paris, 
Count Nikolai Hitch was able to live without feeling 
the want of anything, and he always held the faithful 
orderly in kindly memory. 

Thus that profound feeling which L. Tolstoy cher- 
ishes for the spiritual powers of the Russian man has 
in it, as it were, hereditary roots. And these roots have, 
gradually, descended deeper within him under the in- 
fluence of acquaintance with the people, — now in the 
character of an active landowner and mediator of the 
peace, again in the character of village schoolmaster, 
curiously inquiring into every detail of his Yasnaya 
Polyana school, and again, in conclusion, through free 
communion with the common people during the peri- 
ods of field labors and journeys on foot in company. 
Thanks to his attire and to his ease of manner, Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch everywhere succeeds in establishing free 
relations with the common people, and hears from them 
their entirely unvarnished opinions. 

One day he was walking with a friend of his from 
Moscow to Tula. On the road, near a heap of rubbish, 
they saw a peasant, who was angrily breaking off the 



42 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

heel of his boot with a stone, and swearing vigorously. 
He had chafed his heel with his boot, and this had 
greatly enraged him. The wayfarers approached him, 
entered into conversation with him, and then they pro- 
ceeded on their way together. The workman had a 
dissatisfied air, and he kept complaining of the injustice 
of people : he had been working in a factory, but the 
owner had not paid him as much as he should " for 
casting." Lyeff Nikolaevitch continued to listen to the 
workman, and then said seriously : — 

" There 's something wrong about that, Ivan Se- 
myonoff ! " 

" May God strike me dead, if everything is not as I 
am telling you ! " returned Ivan Semyonoff, hotly ; and, 
in confirmation of his words, he showed Lyeff Nikolae- 
vitch a receipt from the factory. 

Thus they journeyed for about three days, halting at 
posting-stations for rest, and already chatting like old 
friends. Ivan Semyonoff inquired, with curiosity, one 
day when he found himself alone with Lyeff Nikolae- 
vitch's companion : — 

" Say, who is that Lyeff Nikolaevitch, if you please ? " 

" Oh, just an old man. Why ? " 

" He's a divine old man ! " 

At their last halting-place the travelers drank tea. 
Lyeff Nikolaevitch took leave of Ivan Semyonoff, and 
said : — 

" How well it was that God led us to make acquain- 
tance, and to pass our time together. But it still seems 
to me, Ivan Semyonoff, that you have not yet told us 
the whole truth about yourself." 

Tears rose to Ivan Semyonoff s eyes. 

11 Forgive me, Lyeff Nikolaevitch, I told you a lie ; 
I received all my money in full from the proprietor, and 
drank it up, accursed man that I am." 

On another occasion, Lyeff Nikolaevitch and his travel- 
ing companion overtook on the road an ailing lad, who 
was very weak, and they took him with them. The 
mistress of the posting-station, when she saw that the 
lad was very ill, flew into a rage, and screamed : — 



LIVES AND WORKS 43 

" Begone, begone ! Why have you brought hither a 
dead man ? He will die here." 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch remained silent for a little while, 
then said gently : — 

" This lad does not belong to us, he is a stranger. We 
took him because he was helpless. Reflect how painful 
it would be for you if you were in a helpless condition 
and no one was willing to help you." 

The mistress softened, received the travelers, cared 
for the lad in a motherly way, and then kept repeating 
to him : — 

" Here, you see, kind people have picked you up and 
brought you hither. And if there were no kind people 
— if there were no kind people in the world, what would 
happen then ? " 

Free and frequent intercourse with the common people 
has enabled Lyeff Nikolaevitch to accumulate a great 
hoard of knowledge concerning the life of the people, 
and to perfect that rich, highly colored language which 
renders him a master in the most varied realms of 
thought and feeling. 

In conversation with the peasants Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
never apes their tone, but bears himself simply and 
seriously, like an experienced, clever peasant, who knows 
all the shades of peasant life. He knows what to say 
and to whom, and how to get hold of each one. 

In the course of one of his journeys, he entered a vil- 
lage posting-station to spend the night. The master of 
the station, a stubborn, capricious old man, flew into a 
rage with his young son over something or other, and 
began to beat him, then seized him by the hair, and 
dragged him from the room. Lyeff Nikolaevitch began 
to reason with the peasant. But the latter got angry 
and paid no attention to him. Then Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
said to him reproachfully : — 

" Shame on you ! Why, even a wild beast would not 
do that to another wild beast. And you call yourself 
a Christian. Aren't you afraid that God will punish 
you?" 

This stung the peasant, and he shouted wrathf ully : — 



44 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

"So, according to your wise head, a man must not 
teach his children ? " 

" He must teach, but not beat them," said Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch. 

11 And do you know what Count Aratchkeeff said ? " 
inquired the peasant, in a malicious, challenging voice. 

"What?" 

" Kill nine men, but teach the tenth — " 

Before the peasant could finish his sentence, Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch sprang at him with flaming eyes, and 
shouted : — 

" Don't you dare to talk like that ! God is not in you. 
And you must know, the man who said that was a wild 
beast." 

And, as he said this, there was something in his face 
and voice before which the rage of the harsh peasant 
was instantly extinguished. 

The piercing keenness of the glance with which Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch sometimes seems to bore through a man 
and to reach the very depths of his soul, often renders 
a lie impossible to the people with whom he is talk- 
ing. 

A tragic event occurred at Yasnaya Polyana in 1896 : 
the coachman found a dead baby in the pond. The 
whole Tolstoy family was greatly upset at this occur- 
rence. One of Lyeff Nikolaevitch's daughters was 
overwhelmed, in particular, because she was almost con- 
vinced that the dead baby belonged to a cross-eyed 
widow, who had concealed her pregnancy. But the 
widow obstinately spurned the accusation brought against 
her, and swore that she was innocent. 

Suspicions against other people began to circulate. 

Before dinner, Lyeff Nikolaevitch betook himself to 
the park, in order to have a little stroll, but soon re- 
turned with a weary and agitated mien. He had been 
in the village, to the cross-eyed widow's. He did not 
argue with her at all, but merely listened attentively to 
what she had to say, and then remarked : — 

" If this murder is not the work of your hands, then 
it will cause you no suffering. But if you committed it, 



LIVES AND WORKS 45 

you must feel very sad now ; so sad that nothing else in 
this life can ever seem painful to you." 

" Oh, what a weight I have upon my heart now, as 
though some one were crushing it with a stone ! " cried 
the widow, breaking into sobs, and she frankly con- 
fessed to Lyeff Nikolaevitch that she had strangled her 
baby, and thrown -it into the water. That is why he 
was so melancholy. 



46 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 



CHAPTER IX 

Familiarity with the life of the Russian people could 
not pass over such a sensitive nature as that of L. N. 
Tolstoy without leaving traces. With his powerfully 
developed sense of human dignity, he could not but 
suffer painfully, when he beheld around him crying 
want and ignorance. And Lyeff Nikolaevitch was seized 
by the desire to alleviate, if only in a small degree, the lot 
of his common people. He began to take their interests 
more and more to heart, and, at last, he went over to 
popular literature for the people. He visited the night 
lodging-houses, compiled almanacs for the people, 
primers and little books with popular expositions con- 
cerning the air, the work of the sun, and so forth, and 
so forth. 

This was not a sudden leap to one side, but a delib- 
erate turn into a path which he had previously over- 
looked. 

To use his own words, he reminded one of a man 
who, after having chosen a familiar path, turns back. 
Everything which had been on his left hand is now on 
his right, and everything which had been on his right 
hand is now on his left. 

Though enthusiastically engrossed in 1891, by a work 
which was of very great importance to him, L. N. Tolstoy, 
nevertheless, without hesitation, cast it aside, cast aside 
his rooted habits, which are not easily discarded at his 
age, and went off for several months to the famine dis- 
trict, in order to alleviate the lot of the starving. 

By his own personal exertions, Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
founded more than two hundred soup-kitchens, travel- 
ing to and fro, over the snow-drifts, from village to vil- 
lage, through snow-storms and snapping cold. 

Not a little labor, requiring discretion, tact, energy, and 



LIVES AND WORKS 47 

patience, was involved in the establishment of each of 
these soup-kitchens. It was necessary to keep compli- 
cated accounts concerning the organization, the receipt 
of contributions, the assignment of provisions, the pro- 
curing and despatch of various materials. 

L. N. Tolstoy's appeal received responses from every 
direction, even from abroad. Every one believed that 
they were committing their contributions to trustworthy 
hands. And that was a wonderful time so far as the 
stirring up of feelings was concerned, and still awaits 
its historian. Yet, nevertheless, it was but a drop in 
the ocean of the people's need. It became necessary to 
refuse, it became necessary to make a choice among the 
starving. 

L. N. Tolstoy, with his inherent energy, introduced 
many practical novelties into the enterprise which he 
organized, inspiring every one with his presence. But, 
in spite of all his case-hardened endurance, he sometimes 
reached such a state of fatigue that he could not, with- 
out an effort, express at once the simplest thought ; he 
could not, on the spur of the moment, put a name to the 
thing he wanted. 

" Tanya," he said to his eldest daughter, who accom- 
panied him and shared with him all the hardships of their 
new life, " to-morrow, without fail, we must send — " 

And Lyeff Nikolaevitch, in spite of his unusually 
retentive memory, had forgotten what must be sent and 
whither it must be sent. 



4 8 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 



CHAPTER X 

L. N. Tolstoy's love for the common people began 
to usurp, and still usurps, a considerable portion of his 
strength and time. He has contracted many relations 
in that connection which it is no longer possible to break. 
It is impossible to refuse to see a peasant, to get rid of 
him with a gift, when he asks to have a petition to the 
court written for him. It is impossible to put off a 
woman with alms, when her husband dies and the grain 
is not harvested. So L. N. Tolstoy writes the petition 
for the peasant man, and aids the mourning peasant 
woman to harvest the grain in the working season, 
patiently enduring in the process the grievous pain in 
his leg caused by an injury from a cart-wheel, as the 
orderly endured with patience the no less grievous pain 
for the love of his fellow-man. 

But the pain from the contusion keeps increasing. 
Countess Sophia Andreevna goes to Moscow, and, with- 
out Lyeff Nikolaevitch's knowledge, brings back a phy- 
sician, who declares that if one day more had been 
allowed to elapse, a catastrophe would have ensued. 
Lyeff Nikolaevitch's temperature has already risen to 
40 (Reau.). He was obliged to go to bed, and remain 
there for several weeks, which gave the world The 
Power of Darkness. 

The greater part of that piece was dictated by Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch, and occupied several weeks. None of his 
works came so easily to him, because he had already pre- 
pared himself for his task by laboring in the fields, and 
chatting with the peasants. 

And to demand that he shall occupy himself exclusively 
with polite literature is equivalent to demanding from 
him the renunciation of his personality and the needs of 
his soul. 



LIVES AND WORKS 49 

And it is incomprehensible how so sensitive and cul- 
tivated a man as Turgeneff failed to understand that 
inward fermentation which L. N. Tolstoy was passing 
through, and could seriously think that the author of 
War and Peace could cease to live with the artistic 
images, whose production constitutes for the true artist 
as unconquerable a necessity as is blossoming for a 
plant. 

And Lyeff Tolstoy has never subdued in himself the 
author, and has not withered up that spiritual condition 
which is called inspiration. On the contrary, under all 
conditions, the thirst for creation has always, as it were, 
smoldered within him. And the only one of the Rus- 
sian men of action with whom he can be compared, so 
far as this unquenchable thirst is concerned, is Anton 
Rubinstein. 

While returning home one night last year, in Moscow, 
with one of his friends, Lyeff Nikolaevitch suddenly 
came to a halt, and, inhaling the air with avidity, he 
exclaimed passionately : — 

" Heavens, how I want to write ! My brain is seeth- 
ing with images/' 

" Then why this delay, Lyeff Nikolaevitch ? " inquired 
his companion. 

" Time is lacking. I have work for a hundred years, 
and I have but three days to live." 

"What do you mean, Lyeff Nikolaevitch?" 

"Well, a few months longer. In any case, not long. 
And in these remaining days I want to say something 
fine. Perhaps God will graciously permit me not to 
live out my allotted time in vain, but to do something 
worthy toward the end of my days. And there is so 
much to write about ! They say that all the interesting 
themes are exhausted. That is not true. Here, for 
instance — " 

And he began to unfold a theme which dealt with 
on 3 side of family relations, with which, as a matter of 
fact, no one has as yet dealt in literature. 

" There is still another subject which greatly interests 
me," continued Lyeff Nikolaevitch with animation: "it 



5 o HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

is the intimate union of various spiritual qualities in one 
and the same man. The man, who is, in reality, very 
clever, keen, and noble, is at the same time very narrow, 
petty, and insignificant. There is another interesting 
subject, which concerns the characters of the mind. As 
the characters of the passions are, so are also the char- 
acters of the mind. One man has a very vast mind, but 
he sees things only under a certain aspect. And things 
which are easily comprehensible for a smaller mind are 
unattainable for him. Hence proceed the various sharp 
conflicts in social life." 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch's companion inquired: — 

"Have you begun to work out any one of these 
themes ? " 

"No, everything, so far, is merely a project. I am 
occupied with other work at present." 

A few days after this conversation, a lady inquired : — 

" Is it true, Lyeff Nikolaevitch, that you are engaged 
in writing a novel of Caucasian life, in which one of 
Schamyl's companions in arms figures ? " 

"Yes, yes, I am writing. I am writing everything," 
replied Lyeff Nikolaevitch, hastily and reluctantly. Then 
he added, in an explanatory tone : " I say seriously that 
I am writing everything. You ask : Am I writing any 
sort of a story ? I am. Am not I writing a romance ? 
I am writing a romance also. And am not I thinking 
of writing a play ? I am also writing a play. I am 
writing everything." 

And, in reality, he is always writing, and writing a 
great deal. 

But he is very far from committing to print every- 
thing he writes. He is very exacting toward himself. 

In 1896 L. N. Tolstoy completed a novel over which 
he had labored long. Those who had heard extracts 
from this novel thought that, in the force of his descrip- 
tion, our famous writer had taken another step in ad- 
vance, and were convinced that, within a short time, the 
novel' would appear in print. But he was in no haste 
to publish his new work, as he intended to labor a little 
more upon it. 



LIVES AND WORKS 51 

But when he was questioned, lately, about the belated 
novel, he shook his head, and said, in the tone which 
people use in speaking of things which possess no inter- 
est for them : — 

"'No, no, I am done with that! The theme is not 
mine, and the manner is of the routine sort which I 
must abandon." 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch, like the majority of writers, bears 
himself with some eagerness toward literary themes. 
When he hears a characteristic story, he immediately 
tries it on, as it were, and admires it all round, like a 
good carpenter inspecting good, dry timber. He once 
told us about an interesting law-case, which took place 
in the Moscow court-room. When he had finished his 
story, L. N. remarked : — 

" You see, there 's a regular Maupassant story, ready- 
made to hand. It is a genuine godsend for some young 
writer. However, perhaps I shall use it myself," he 
added hastily, as though afraid that some one would 
appropriate the interesting subject. Some time later, 
I happened to hear that he had again narrated the 
same episode, and I was struck by several artistic de- 
tails, which had already crept into it during the interval, 
from the artistic laboratory of Lyeff Nikolaevitch, pos- 
sibly against his will. 

But a great deal is required before any theme be- 
comes an object of his creative powers. First of all it 
must be distinguished by novelty, clearness, and inward 
worth. Then, the side of life embraced must be well 
known to Lyeff Nikolaevitch ; he does not like to write 
by " hearsay." In conclusion, as a final condition, it is 
indispensable that the subject shall take possession of 
him, as a cough takes possession of a man. Then only 
can he set to work, and yield himself up to it with the 
enthusiasm of the true artist. 

" What a splendid hunt we had to-day after that gray 
hare ! " he said, with animation, to his wife, emerging 
from his study after work, and with an aspect as though 
he really had been engaged in a successful hunt after 
a gray hare. (The hunter's pulse still beats in L. Tol- 



52 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

stoy, but he suppresses the inclination in himself, be- 
cause of artistic demands.) 

In his manner of working, Lyeff Nikolaevitch reminds 
one of the old painters. Having settled upon the plan 
of the work, and collected a great number of studies, he 
first makes a charcoal sketch, as it were, and writes 
rapidly, without thinking of particulars. He gives 
what he has thus written, to have a clean copy made, 
to Countess Sophia Andreevna, or to one of his daugh- 
ters, or to some one of his friends to whom this work 
will afford pleasure. 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch usually writes on quarto sheets of 
plain paper, of an inferior quality, in a large, involved 
hand, and sometimes covers as many as twenty pages 
in one day, which makes more than half a sheet of 
printed matter. But he forms no fixed habits either in 
regard to paper or pens, and when one of the commer- 
cial firms hit upon the idea of launching upon the 
world the Tolstoy pen, it appeared that Lyeff Nikolae- 
vitch had no opinion on that matter. He works chiefly 
in the morning, between nine o'clock and three, because 
he regards that interval as the very best for work. It 
is almost impossible to get an interview with him at 
that time, if Countess Sophia Andreevna is at home 
She carefully guards his working hours, and one may 
say, without sinning, that she would even refuse to 
admit a king to Lyeff Nikolaevitch, if the king would 
interfere with his work. In this respect, it is not likely 
that any other Russian author has had so faithful a 
body-guard as has Lyeff Nikolaevitch in the person of 
his anxious wife. 

But they differ in their views of the world. He repre- 
sents, as it were, heaven in his family, and she represents 
the earth. 

But they live together on loving terms. She cares for 
him like an indefatigable nurse, makes his clothes with 
her own hands, and only parts from him for the briefest 
possible time. He bears himself in a Christian spirit 
toward her weaknesses, and highly prizes her sincerity 
and frankness. 



LIVES AND WORKS 53 



CHAPTER XI 

In February, 1895, the Tolstoys' youngest son died, 
seven-year-old Vanetchka (Johnny), a very charming 
little boy, v/ho, in some degree, resembled his father in 
his outward appearance. Lyeff Nikolaevitch bore him- 
self toward this painful blow with Christian resignation. 
Several of his acquaintances who talked with him during 
those sad days did not even learn of his loss. But 
Sophia Andreevna was stupefied with her grief, and bore 
it with difficulty. Life lost its interest for her, and she 
prayed God for death. During this sharp crisis, Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch treated her with that peculiar compassion 
and delicacy of heart which are so captivating in him. 
Once, it even seemed to me that he was not sincere, for 
the sake of not paining Sophia Andreevna. This is the 
way it was. 

When spring approaches, Lyeff Nikolaevitch gener- 
ally makes all haste to leave the city for Yasnaya Po- 
lyana. He does not like the city, and in the springtime 
he feels an unconquerable loathing for it. But in the 
spring of 1895 he remained until June in Moscow, for 
the sake of his grief-stricken wife, who did not wish to 
depart for the country until the boys had finished their 
examinations. At the end of May, I happened to call 
upon Lyeff Nikolaevitch. He looked worn out. As I 
was aware that he loves the country in spring, I said : — 

" I think you are exhausted here." 

At that moment Sophia Andreevna entered the room. 

" Not in the least. I feel capitally here," exclaimed 
Lyeff Nikolaevitch, quickly and loudly. 

She cast a grateful glance at him, and said : — 

" I do not know how you feel. But it grieves me 
deeply that you should be living so late in Moscow for 
my sake in this heat and turmoil." 

" You are fretting yourself for nothing. I feel very 
well here." 



54 



HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 



But perhaps he really did feel very well at that 
moment. 

When the French writer Richet was visiting the Tol- 
stoys, he is said to have remarked to Sophia Andreevna 
that she could not possibly have found time for personal 
happiness by the side of so great a husband. But it 
seems to me that that is a mere phrase. Within the 
narrow limits of human happiness, Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
and Sophia Andreevna have been happy in their day, 
and have got out of life, if not all that they might have 
got, at any rate, a very great deal. He has given her 
a clever, healthy, faithful, and passionately loving hus- 
band. She, in the very prime of his powers, gave him 
a quiet happiness, untroubled by storms, with a long 
series of domestic joys, which were afterward reflected 
in his works. And the future historian of Russian litera- 
ture can hardly pass over Countess Sophia Andreevna 
without mention. 

Count Sollogub, during one of his visits to Yasnaya 
Polyana, once said to Lyeff Nikolaevitch : — 

"What a lucky man you are, my dear fellow! Fate 
has given you everything that one could even dream : a 
splendid family, a charming, loving wife, universal fame, 
health — everything." 

" But that is not because Fate is particularly partial to 
me," replied Lyeff Nikolaevitch, "but because I have 
always wished only for that which God has sent me. 
He has given me that sort of a wife, and I am satisfied 
With her, and want no other." 

In consequence of Countess Sophia Andreevna hav- 
ing minutely studied her husband's habits for a period 
of many years, she knows as soon as Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
emerges from his cabinet, by his very aspect, how his 
work has thriven, in what frame of mind he is. And if 
it is necessary to copy anything for him, she immediately 
lays aside all her own affairs, of which her hands are 
always full ; and no matter what happens that day, at a 
certain hour, she will, without fail, have copied legibly 
all that is needed, and laid it on his writing-table. 



LIVES AND WORKS 55 



CHAPTER XII 

After his morning labors Lyeff Nikolaevitch gener- 
ally goes out into the air, and if he is in Moscow, he be- 
takes himself on foot into the city and' visits his friends, or 
rides on horseback, or on his bicycle, according to the 
state of the weather. Muscular exercise in the open air 
is, for him, a necessity, whose place nothing else can 
take, but the satisfaction of which is, sometimes, allied 
with some risk, and causes Sophia Andreevna many 
anxious moments. Lyeff Nikolaevitch has gone off on 
horseback, or on his bicycle, and has promised to return 
at a certain time. Sophia Andreevna begins to get 
uneasy, and gloomy thoughts assail her : " At Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch' s age, it is so easy to fall from his bicycle 
or from a skittish horse, and receive fatal injuries. At 
his time of life, he should not undertake such excursions, 
because his muscles have already become like a thread- 
bare fabric. But what is one to do with him ? Is it 
possible to dissuade him from anything ? " 

Her hearers, in part, share Sophia Andreevna's views, 
and gradually become infected with alarm. 

But Lyeff Nikolaevitch enters, as usual, with fresh 
animation after his trip, and the clouds instantly vanish. 

Once, something in the nature of a conspiracy was 
concocted against Lyeff Nikolaevitch's riding a bicycle. 
A woman doctor was visiting the Tolstoys, and thought 
that it was very hazardous for Lyeff Nikolaevitch to 
ride thirty versts on his wheel. It so happened that, 
on that very day, an English illustrated journal had 
arrived which contained an article about the injurious 
effects of bicycle riding. 

It was decided that I, as though by accident, should 
begin a conversation on bicycle riding ; the woman doc- 
tor was to back me up, and state her views concerning 



56 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

the wheel, and reenforce them by quotations from the 
English journal, which was to be lying open there, for 
greater persuasiveness. We had planned everything 
very craftily, and Lyeff Nikolaevitch was immediately 
to tumble into the nets spread for him. But our plot, 
like the majority of plots, broke down ; and, principally, 
through my fault. At the most critical moment, when 
I ought to have made my sort of " start," I felt ashamed, 
as though I were about to make a fool of the man whom 
I deeply respect and love, and I maintained an obstinate 
silence, paying no heed to the signals. Then the 
woman doctor entered, single-handed, upon the execu- 
tion of the plot. Lyeff Nikolaevitch listened to her 
attentively, and entirely agreed with her, that it was not 
right to abuse bicycle riding ; then, probably suspecting 
in what direction the " last deductions of experimental 
science" pointed, he said that, twenty years previously, 
Professor Zakharin had strictly forbidden him all physi- 
cal exercise, under penalty of its resulting badly for him. 

"But," added Lyeff Nikolaevitch, "the result would 
certainly have been bad for me long ago, if I had obeyed 
Zakharin, and stopped giving my muscles the work 
which strengthens me, gives me sound sleep, a spirited 
frame of mind, and has made me like the horse out at 
grass. Only let the horse rest, and feed him, and he is 
fit for work again." 

And, as though in confirmation of the justice of his 
views, Lyeff Nikolaevitch, with a brisk, youthful step, 
went off to his study, where he always has on hand 
some unfinished work which must be completed in 
haste. 



LIVES AND WORKS 57 



CHAPTER XIII 

When Lyeff Nikolaevitch's new work, cleanly copied 
out, makes its appearance on his work-table, it is sub- 
jected to instant remodeling. But again, it is still in 
the nature of a charcoal sketch. The manuscript is 
speedily spotted all over with erasures and interpola- 
tions between the lines, at the sides, and at the bottom, 
and with transfers to other pages. Whole sentences 
are replaced by others, which, like flashes of lightning, 
sometimes illuminate the image presented from a new 
point of view. The work, cleanly copied out for the 
second time, suffers the same fate. The same thing 
happens with the third. Some chapters Lyeff Nikolae- 
vitch writes over more than half a score of times. Mean- 
while, he hardly troubles himself at all about the 
external workmanship, and even entertains a sort of 
repugnance to everything very finely finished in art. 

"Often, all that that results in is, that it dries up 
thought, and injures the impression," he says. 

And, arming himself more and more, as he writes, 
with his recollections and with new information concern- 
ing the question with which he is dealing, Lyeff Niko- 
laevitch toils doggedly, searchingly, and persistently 
over every chapter, taking only brief breaks for rest, 
and, generally, resorting to the laying out of a suit at 
Patience in moments of perplexity. 

His intense seeking after inward clearness in every 
hero whom he depicts constitutes, at that time, Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch's chief anxiety, and he is fond of saying in 
this connection, that gold is obtained by strenuous sift- 
ing and washing. 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch succeeds in dashing off only very 
few scenes at the first effort, under the influence of vivid 
impressions. In that manner was written the descrip- 





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to BpeMa, Koifla owh ycaMBajica 3a caHAMB^XoTa emy eme ohjio Teoio, 
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«ito Teiua 9Toro XBaTHTi> He Ha flOJiro, a ito corp-BBaTbca flBroKeHieirb 
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ysce He vyaai Ha Hefl Cojibnioro naxbna, 

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Facsimile of corrected proof fn 



58 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

tion of the horse-race in Anna Karcnina, under the influ- 
ence of Prince Obolensky's captivating narration. 

As the rewriting and correction proceed, some details 
stand forth more clearly, but others seem to withdraw 
farther and farther into the background. 

When, by dint of intense labor, Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
has obtained a certain degree of lucidity, he reads his 
new work aloud in a circle of people intimately con- 
nected with him, in order that he may profit by their 
comments, before the book has appeared in print. 
When he had completed The Power of Darkness, he 
read his drama to the peasants, but derived very few 
instructive hints from that reading. In the most touch- 
ing parts of the drama, which Lyeff Nikolaevitch can- 
not read without tears, several of his hearers suddenly 
began to laugh, and chilled the reader. 

The severest critic of L. N. Tolstoy's new works is, 
generally, Countess Sophia Andreevna, who expresses 
her opinion with her characteristic straightforwardness. 
Lyeff Nikolaevitch sometimes agrees with her, but 
sometimes stoutly defends the position which he has 
taken up. 

The long-postponed novel, previously mentioned, was 
rejected by Sophia Andreevna. One day, as we were 
drinking tea, the conversation turned on Lyeff Nikolae- 
vitch's writings. That day Sophia Andreevna had the 
proofs of War and Peace for a new edition, and wore a 
rather weary air. One of the guests inquired whether 
reading the proofs of War and Peace gave her pleasure 
or not. 

"Some passages, yes," said she; "but some did not 
please me formerly, and do not please me now." 

" Which, for instance ? " 

"Just to-day I read the proofs where Pierre Bezu- 
khoff, when taken prisoner, begins to laugh. That is 
forced. One cannot laugh at such a moment." 

At that instant, Lyeff Nikolaevitch approached the 
tea-table and asked what we were talking about. Sophia 
Andreevna repeated her accusation, with precision. 

"Why do you assert positively," he inquired, "that 



LIVES AND WORKS 59 

it is impossible to laugh at such moments ? Why, to- 
day, I was reading in the Archives, about the Decem- 
brist Batenkoff, who, when he was put in prison, burst 
into a loud laugh, and said : ' You are locking me up 
because of my ideas. But my ideas are not here — they 
are roaming about in freedom.' Pierre might have 
laughed in exactly the same way." 

" No, that is false. At such a moment it is impossi- 
ble to laugh. And I do not understand how you can 
assert such a thing." 

" And I do not understand how you can fail to com- 
prehend that it is impossible to reject so stubbornly that 
which you do not understand." 

"That is my opinion." 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch put an end to the dispute, and 
after the lapse of a few minutes he had imperceptibly 
banished the little clouds which had gathered in the air. 

After every altercation, and, especially, after every in- 
justice done to him, a strong reaction begins within him, 
and he passes into that charming, serene frame of mind 
of which I have already spoken. It is opportune to 
mention here, that after the well-known quarrel between 
Turgeneff and L. N. Tolstoy at Fet-Schenschin's, — the 
quarrel which raised the question of a duel, and con- 
cerning which Turgeneff himself afterward said that 
he behaved like a 7iaiighty little boy, — Lyeff Nikolae- 
vitch, of his own initiative, wrote to Turgeneff, under 
the influence of a kindly impulse, a conciliatory letter. 
But the letter was not transmitted to Turgeneff, and 
their strained relations continued for some time longer. 



6o HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 



CHAPTER XIV 

As soon as the rumor gets into circulation that Lyeff 
Tolstoy has finished a new work, men and women ama- 
teurs begin to swoop down upon him from all quarters, 
with requests that he will put his new book at their dis- 
posal, because of the particular circumstances in which 
they find themselves placed. And he generally does 
give his new book to some one. 

But his labors over his new work do not end here. 
There is still the proof-reading, which usually calls forth 
in L. N. Tolstoy a flood of intensified activity. During 
the period of time while the manuscript has been in the 
press, so many events have occurred, so many fresh 
observations have accumulated which illuminate some 
sides of the question dealt with from an entirely new 
point of view. But the margins of the proof-sheets are 
so narrow, the time for correction is so short, and re- 
straining the pressure of new thoughts, economizing 
every possible scrap of paper, Lyeff Nikolaevitch con- 
verts the proof-sheets into a closely woven net of correc- 
tions. The same thing happens to the second proofs. 
And it may be said, without exaggeration, that if Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch were to have ninety-nine sets of proofs for 
any one of his works, the ninety-ninth proof would be 
speckled with corrections. 

The sense of self-criticism is strongly developed in 
him, and he always perceives his mistakes clearly on 
the following day. But in the proof-sheets his mental 
sharp-sightedness is still further sharpened, and some 
of the chapters come out altered beyond recognition. 

One day, when the subject of the conversation was 
intense toil over mental productions, Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
said : — 

" No trifle must be neglected in art, because, some- 



LIVES AND WORKS 61 

times, some half-torn-off button may illuminate a certain 
side of the life of a given person. And the button must 
be depicted without fail. But all the efforts, and the 
half-torn-off button, must be directed exclusively to the 
inward substance of the matter, and must not divert 
the attention from the principal and important part to 
particulars and trifles, as so often happens. One of the 
contemporary writers, in narrating the history of Joseph 
and the wife of Potiphar, would assuredly not miss the 
opportunity to shine by his knowledge of life, and would 
write : ' Come to me, said Potiphar' s wife, languidly, 
stretching out toward Joseph her hand delicate with 
the perfumed massage, with such and such a bracelet, 
and so forth.' And all these details not only would not 
illuminate the substance of the matter more clearly, but 
would infallibly extinguish it." 

One of L. N. Tolstoy's acquaintances compares his 
work with viands prepared by certain thrifty house- 
wives, who pay little heed to the outward attractiveness 
of the food, but concentrate their attention chiefly upon 
seeing that the provisions are fresh, and cleanly cooked, 
and that the food excels in its nutritive qualities. 

And, in fact, Lyeff Nikolaevitch troubles himself very 
little about the outward attractiveness of his works, 
often heaping up one incidental proposition upon an- 
other, fitting them out with repetitions of one and the 
same word, and absolutely disregarding various aca- 
demical rules concerning style. But, on the other hand, 
when it is a question of " freshness " and "purity," there 
is no end to his exacting demands. 

I once happened to discover to what lengths his ex- 
actingness goes. The conversation, somehow, turned 
upon the Molokani 1 who, as is well known, do not recog- 
nize any books except those of a religious character. 
We were talking in particular about this, and one of 
those present severely condemned the one-sidedness of 
the Molokani. Lyeff Nikolaevitch was in one of those 
mental states which come upon people only after great 
internal changes and important conquests over self. A 

1 A religious sect — the milk-drinkers, literally. — Tr. 



62 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

man in that state of mind seems already to have passed 
over the threshold of life, and to have placed himself 
above many human weaknesses. Communion with peo- 
ple who are in that condition affords such lofty delight, 
that there is nothing which can be compared with it. 
Their thoughts are penetrating, their feelings are pro- 
found and lucid. The most commonplace words acquire 
in their mouths remarkable force. The most gloomy 
situations acquire clearness and relief. 

Such moments of mental illumination always seem 
to transfigure Lyeff Nikolaevitch's exterior. His harsh 
features beam, and take on a reflection of spiritual 
beauty. He becomes gracious, benevolent, listens pa- 
tiently, speaks in a calm, friendly manner, with head 
slightly bowed and hands clasped. In the midst of the 
conversation, when his interlocutor is at a loss to express 
any thought, he gently lays his hand on the other's 
shoulder, or on his knee, and by this movement alone 
creates around him the atmosphere of intimacy. 

Any one who has seen him at such moments forgives 
him for all the asperities of his character, and becomes 
permeated with the most profound feeling toward him 
that one man can entertain for another man. 

Every remark of L. N. Tolstoy's at such moments 
acquires special value, because he reveals himself wholly, 
as it were, in his spiritual blossoming. 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch listened attentively to his compan- 
ion, who disproved of the Molokani, because they avoid 
worldly books, and then said thoughtfully : — 

" But ought we to condemn them for that ? When 
you sometimes reflect how many lies are piled up in our 
books, you find it difficult to say where there is most of 
it, in life or in books. And you sometimes take your 
pen, and write something after this fashion : ' Early in 
the morning Ivan Nikititch rose from his bed, and 
called his son to him.' And all at once you feel 
ashamed of yourself, and you throw down your pen. 
Why lie, old man ? For that did 7iot occur, and you 
know no Ivan Nikititch. Then why, in your old age, 
shall you have recourse to lies ? Write about what 



LIVES AND WORKS 63 

has happened, what you have actually seen and lived 
through. No lies are needed. There are so many of 
them." 

With such esthetic demands, of course it is impossible 
to write a romance every year. Even if Lyeff Nikolae- 
vitch wished to do that now he could not, in all probabil- 
ity, because he has become so thoroughly imbued with 
the habit of endeavoring to obtain a certain lucidity of 
subject that he sometimes even writes his letters over 
several times, and meditates upon them with concen- 
trated attention, and writes them with as much feeling 
as that with which a bridegroom goes forth to his 
wedding. 

On another occasion I happened to hear Lyeff Niko- 
laevitch's opinion concerning his works, during a stroll 
in the fields. He retarded his steps for a minute, and 
said, with a tinge of bitterness : — 

" You write, and write all sorts of novels and tales, 
and when you look at the life of our educated class, and 
compare it with the toilsome life of the common people, 
you are seized with shame that you are busying your- 
self with such trifles as writing for the educated class, 
and you long to renounce it all for good." 

I tried to reply : — 

" But how can we renounce that which has been given 
to us by God, in the quality of His loftiest gift ? And is 
it possible that it is not worth our while to work for the 
educated class ? A conviction has arisen that it was not 
the Prussian army, but the German scientist, who con- 
quered France. And therein lies a certain amount of 
truth. Without enlightenment there cannot be that full 
understanding which alone can give to a man power and 
firmness. And so long as our people are uneducated the 
Power of Darkness will long hang over them, with all its 
monstrous attributes. But who, if not the educated class, 
can introduce enlightened principles among the masses 
of the common people ? And do not you, by aiding the 
growth of education through your works, serve the com- 
mon people also, simultaneously ? You certainly do serve 
them. Therefore do not turn away from us as from 



64 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

unworthy persons, with your divine gift, and do not 
deprive us of the fine specimens of your creative power." 

We were walking briskly, in consequence of which 
I breathed brokenly, and my speech assumed a pas- 
sionate tone. Lyeff Nikolaevitch made no reply, and 
for some time we proceeded in silence. Then began a 
conversation on the problems of art. He was then medi- 
tating upon his book, What is Art? This work had 
been projected by him in the '70' s, at the request of a 
St. Petersburg journalist. But when he then set about 
the work, Lyeff Nikolaevitch perceived that many fun- 
damental questions of art were not, as yet, sufficiently 
fixed in his mind. And only after the lapse of seven- 
teen years, when everything had thoroughly fermented 
in his mind, and had quieted down, did he at last take 
up the work already begun. His writing-table and 
shelves were loaded with piles of all possible sorts of 
folios, which treated of art in Russian and foreign 
languages. 

Thanks to his numerous friends and admirers, he was 
able to acquaint himself with very rare and precious 
publications, unattainable for most people, and, in the 
course of several months of preparation, he seemed to 
live exclusively in his new work, gladly discussing it, 
and developing in conversation the theses he had in 
view. This work cost him about two years of assiduous 
labor. 



LIVES AND WORKS 6 S 



CHAPTER XV 

After the appearance of his article upon art, printed, 
in an abbreviated form, in the Moscow journal, Ques- 
tions of Philosophy and Psychology, Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
received a number of sympathetic letters, from persons 
whose opinions he could not but value in the matter 
of art. 

Thus the well-known critic, V. Stasoff, wrote to him 
that, although he disagreed with him on several points 
in his new work, he, nevertheless, considered it a notable 
work which presented the last word of the nineteenth 
century, of that great century which could end in such 
unprecedented truth, unknown throughout the course of 
many ages. 

The artist Ilya Ryepin wrote to L. N. Tolstoy under 
the vivid impression of the newly read article : — 

"Adored Lyeff Nikolaevitch! I have just read What 
is Art ? and am still under the influence of the powerful 
impression of this mighty work of yours. If it is possible 
not to agree with some particulars and examples, on the 
other hand, the book as a whole and the presentation of 
questions are so profound and indisputable, that one 
becomes cheerful and is permeated with joy. Religion 
has been discovered — that is the greatest deed of your 
life. And I can say without hypocrisy, I am happy in 
having lived until this day." 

All these expressions of sympathy touched Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch. Yet he bears himself with good-will 
toward the critics who do not agree with his principal 
propositions, but who, nevertheless, introduce his work 
to their readers. And only when a criticism was delib- 
erately hostile or too vehement did he, without comment, 
lead the conversation to another theme. But one day, 
after reading a criticism of that sort, written with particu- 
lar irritation, he burst out laughing, and said : — 



66 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

"When you read about yourself, you, nevertheless, 
prize sympathy and are chagrined at blame. But in 
this special case, the article has given me pleasure. 
You feel as though you had tumbled right into the 
middle of an ant-heap, and they were angrily swarming 
about." 

What Lyeff Nikolaevitch cannot endure is unmeasured 
praise addressed to him, and, in general, all sorts of 
exaggeration in the expression of feeling. This always 
embarrasses him, and he then becomes curt and disa- 
greeable. In general he does not like any expressions 
of approbation which have the odor of incense. In 
such cases his pride seems to rebel because an effort is 
being made to capture him, not with the language of 
the soul, but with the honey of the tongue. One of 
his visitors began one day to tell him about some remark- 
able revival, called forth by the appearance in print of 
Master and Workman. 

L. N. Tolstoy frowned, and applying to himself the 
words of Phocion, he interrupted the speaker : — 

" Have I then written something very stupid ? " 

As he is very exacting toward his own works, and 
regards art as the most powerful of all means in the 
matter of disseminating good sentiments among people, 
L. N. Tolstoy will not tolerate any carelessness in art, 
and will sooner pardon lack of talent than lack of serious 
bearing toward any matter. And one instance of gross 
carelessness in the works of any person is enough to 
make Lyeff Nikolaevitch forever turn his back upon 
that author. 

The conversation fell one day upon Melnikoff-Pe- 
tchersky, to whom L. N. Tolstoy bore himself negatively. 
I inquired : — 

" Lyeff Nikolaevitch, why are you so indifferent 
toward Melnikoff-Petchersky ? He has written some 
very good things." 

" Perhaps," said Lyeff Nikolaevitch with a suggestion 
of doubt, and immediately added : " However, I do not 
think so. One of his books once fell into my hands ; 
I opened it, and hit upon the following: 'The Russian 



LIVES AND WORKS 67 

peasant cuts down a whole oak in order that he may 
make himself a cart-shaft or an axle from a bough.' 
Then I shut the book and said to myself : ' I 've had 
enough of Melnikoff.' " 

One may not agree with some of Lyeff Nikolaevitch's 
assertions about books and people. But I have never 
chanced to observe that he exhibited a sarcastic, mali- 
cious feeling toward any one, or that the opinions ex- 
pressed by him were tinged with the color of his rela- 
tions toward the people. Thus, while he always bore 
himself with particular warmth toward Lyeskoff and 
N. Strakhoff, as men, both during their lifetime and 
after their death, he invariably said that there was a 
good-sized spoonful of tar in their cask of honey. 1 This 
independence in his judgments, and the sincere straight- 
forwardness with which L. N. Tolstoy bears himself 
toward everything, always impart to his words a peculiar 
value. 

1 A Russian proverb, " A spoonful of tar in a cask of honey," indicating 
that a very little of a bad thing will spoil a great deal of a good thing. — Tr. 



68 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 



CHAPTER XVI 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch's constant aspiration toward 
veracity and lucidity in his writings demands much 
time, not only in the writing itself, but also in the prepar- 
atory work. He tries to find in life the confirmation 
of the situations which he has invented, and immediately 
rejects everything imaginary when life furnishes a ready- 
made episode. This was the case with Anna Karenina, 
whom L. N. Tolstoy did not, at first, intend to kill. But 
an analogous romantic episode happened near Yasnaya 
Polyana, where the unhappy heroine, Anna, threw her- 
self under the railway train. This impelled L. N. Tolstoy 
to a fresh treatment of the question, and considerably 
modified his original plan. 

Anna Karenina was begun under the following circum- 
stances. One evening, in 1873, Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
entered the drawing-room as his eldest son, Sergyei, was 
reading aloud to his wife Byelkiiis Story, by Pushkin. The 
reading ceased when Lyeff Nikolaevitch made his ap- 
pearance. He asked what they were reading and opened 
the book, and when he read, " The guests assembled at 
the country-house," he went into ecstasies. 

"That is the way one ought always to begin to 
write ! " said he. " That immediately arouses the 
reader's interest." 

A relative of the Tolstoys declared that it would 
be a very good thing if L. N. T. would write a novel of 
high life. That evening Lyeff Nikolaevitch wrote, 
" Everything was in a tumult at the house of the 
Oblonskys." 

And then, when he began to write the romance, he 
placed at the beginning : " All happy families resemble 
each other ; every unhappy family is unhappy after its 
own fashion." 



LIVES AND WORKS 69 

The Death of Ivan Hitch was written by Lyeff Niko- 
laevitch under the influence of a narration by one of 
the members of the Moscow Court, concerning the death 
of his comrade, Ivan Hitch M. 

The Kreutzer Sonata had its origin in the following 
circumstances. The artist I. Ry6pin, and the actor An- 
dreeff-Burlak, who made Lyeff Nikolaevitch laugh until 
he ached with his amusing stories, were visiting at 
Yasnaya Polyana, and one evening, Mme. G., who had 
just arrived from abroad, played the Kreutzer Sonata 
with such brilliant expressiveness, that she produced 
upon every one, and, in particular, upon Lyeff Nikolae- 
vitch, a very profound impression, under the influence 
of which he said to I. Ryepin : — 

" Let us write The Kreutzer Sonata. You with the 
brush, I with the pen, and Vasily Nikolaevitch (Andreeff- 
Burlak) shall read it on the stage, where your picture 
shall stand." 

This proposal called forth general approbation. 

After a time, Lyeff Nikolaevitch, with his character- 
istic perseverance, set to work at what, probably, had 
long been seething in his brain. 

The Power of Darkness was taken, in its entirety, 
from a case in court which occurred in Tula. 

The Fruits of Civilization was written for amateur 
theatricals at Yasnaya Polyana. At first the play con- 
sisted of two acts, and was called She was crafty. But 
as the rehearsals, in which Lyeff Nikolaevitch took an 
active part, proceeded, he improved and amplified the 
piece, in conformity with the number of the acting per- 
sonages. During the performance of the play, several 
of the actors gave him so much pleasure by their acting 
that some of the scenes were forever graven on his 
memory. He was especially enthusiastic over his exam- 
ining magistrate, L., who took the part of one of the 
peasants. 

" He came to Yasnaya Polyana," Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
relates, " and all day long he hardly spoke to any one, 
but kept walking about with drooping head. But on 
the stage he surpassed them all, and out of his small 



7 o HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

part he made something so fine that I had not even 
foreseen it when I wrote that part." 

And, growing animated, according to his custom when 
true genius is under discussion, Lyeff Nikolaevitch be- 
gan to recall the playing of the old Moscow actors: 
Shstchepkin, Martynoff, and others. He expressed 
himself with particular warmth about Martynoff : — 

" He was a great artist," said he, "uniting in himself 
three precious qualities : talent, wit, and the capacity 
for persistent labor. In A. Potyekhin's play, Stolen 
Goods bring no Luck, Martynoff was so incomparable, 
that I, although I was only then beginning my literary 
career, started the applause, and we organized an ova- 
tion for him." 

And when Lyeff Nikolaevitch said this, his face lost 
its stern character, and kindled with the youthful, cap- 
tivating flame of enthusiasm. 

I chanced to behold L. N. Tolstoy a second time in 
that state during April of last year, when the talented 
sculptor, Prince P. Trubetskoy, was in Moscow, having 
come thither from Italy, where he always lives. Prince 
Trubetskoy expressed a desire to make a bust of Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch. When I came to Tolstoy, the bust had 
been begun, and was standing in the dining-room, down- 
stairs, covered with damp cloths. 

" You have not heard of the sculptor, Trubetskoy ? " 
asked Lyeff Nikolaevitch, as he bade me welcome. 

"No." 

" Then come with me and I will show you something. 
What wonderful talent ! " said L. N., becoming ani- 
mated. And with swift, lively steps, he led me to the 
lower dining-room, striding down several steps of the 
staircase at a time. In the dining-room Lyeff Nikolae- 
vitch went up to the veiled bust, and, without ceasing to 
talk animatedly about Prince P. Trubetskoy's excep- 
tional talent, he began, with irresolute mien, to free the 
bust from the damp cloths. And, in fact, even from 
the work which Prince Trubetskoy had done in a few 
hours, it was possible to judge of this sculptor's re- 
markable talent. Before me were two Lyeff Tolstoys : 



LIVES AND WORKS 71 

one living, speaking, impressionable ; the other speech- 
less, motionless, but as familiar to me as the first. 

With profound feeling I divided my attention between 
the superb work of man and the master-creation of 
nature, that had sent forth so splendid and artistic a 
temperament, which, at the age of seventy, can flame 
so infectiously with the fire of pure ecstasy. 



72 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 



CHAPTER XVII 

The hot and passionate temperament wherewith na- 
ture endowed L. N. Tolstoy has not been destroyed by 
outward influences to the present time. One day, not 
long ago, a horse grew restive under him. He is a 
good horseman, and loves horses after the manner of 
a coachman — carefully and tenderly, and understands 
capitally how to manage them. He knows their nature, 
their habits, and their tricks, and sometimes it even 
seems as though he understood their language. But, in 
this case, nothing was of any avail. The horse reared 
and backed. All at once, Lyeff Nikolaevitch straight- 
ened up, his eyes flashed, and the whip descended, 
hissing through the air, upon the horse. The horse 
sprang forward, and a minute later no one would have 
believed that this plainly garbed, modest old man, with 
a white beard, could be so menacing. But one thing 
may be asserted with truth, that this affair did not pass 
off without leaving its traces upon Lyeff Nikolaevitch, 
for, with his hot temperament, and pugnacious, self- 
willed character, he at the same time possesses a re- 
markably sensitive conscience, which suffers tortures at 
every act of violence. 

In this chain of seething, imperious instincts linked 
with delicate spiritual organization lies the profound 
tragicness of Tolstoy's personality. Born with strong 
passions, and with a character in the highest degree 
elastic, mettlesome, and self-willed, presenting in his 
person in every respect man raised, as it were, to 
the cube, or that " over-man" (iibermensch) of whom 
Nietszsche dreamed, L. N. Tolstoy at the same time 
possesses an all-embracing soul, which thirsts for self- 
perfection. On the one hand, an insatiable thirst for 
power over people, and on the other, an unconquera- 



LIVES AND WORKS 



73 



ble ardor for inward purity and the sweetness of meek- 
ness. 

Prometheus, in the aspect of a stooping river-boatman 
with his hauling-noose around his neck, or some Caius 
Marcius Coriolanus, in the position of a servant, would 
present a less tragical situation. What a theme for a 
psychological drama ! Yet this tragic state is a charac- 
teristic peculiarity of the Tolstoy personality, and 
gleams forth in nearly all his writings. 

The elements of this tragedy lie in his religious zeal, 
which can never reconcile the man with himself, and 
keeps his soul constantly in a state of powerful tension, 
— "like fish on dry land," to use the characteristic 
expression of the Danish thinker, Kierkegaard. 

This aspiration to become from finite infinite, from 
ashes the Phoenix, from " the bag of meat " God, this 
aspiration which lies, in potential form, in every writer, 
is developed in L. N. Tolstoy to the highest degree, 
and constitutes, as it were, his second nature. Turge- 
neff, as far back as the ^o's, wrote to Druzhinin con- 
cerning L. Tolstoy : " When this young wine shall have 
got through fermenting, there will come forth from it a 
beverage worthy of the gods." But what Turgeneff did 
not divine, because he was lacking in religious experience, 
was that the man who believes can never " get through 
fermenting," and drop the curtain upon his inner world. 
Life every day creates some fresh complication, and 
imposes fresh burdens upon him. L. N. Tolstoy will 
never free himself from burdens of this sort. He finds 
it especially painful in Moscow, where his life is not 
always arranged according to his plans, and he is often 
compelled to dwell in a sphere that is alien to him. 

One day he met one of his visitors on the street, and 
got into conversation with him. It appeared that this 
man lived in bachelor quarters, dined where he pleased, 
and could, at any time, isolate himself in Moscow as in 
an uninhabited island. 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch told about this meeting, and added 
with a smile : — 

" And I envied him to a degree which I am ashamed 



74 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

to express. Just think of it : a man can live as he likes 
without causing suffering to any one. Really, that is 
— bliss ! " 

The conversation turned upon the imperative neces- 
sity for solitude in the case of certain people, and the 
burdensomeness of isolation for others, who would un- 
dergo any sort of suffering rather than solitude. Some 
one cited the instance of a doctor who went mad after 
two months of solitary confinement. 

"Yes, yes, that may be," said Lyeff Nikolaevitch. 
" But, on the other hand, solitude may be genuine bliss 
for people who are able to draw resources from within 
themselves." 

"Voluntary, yes; but involuntary, no," said some one. 

" Why ? everything depends on the man's relation 
to certain phenomena," returned Lyeff Nikolaevitch. 
" They tell a story about a certain gentleman who, for 
some reason, was kept for a long time in solitary con- 
finement, and spent his time there in a very remarkable 
manner. He managed it as follows : he evoked in his 
memory the recollections which were dear to him, vis- 
ited, in thought, all his friends, and held with them pro- 
longed conversations on the most varied topics. Thus 
his time passed ; he enjoyed an excellent state of mind, 
and good sleep. But is there nothing except imaginary 
conversations of which a man can think, when he is left 
alone ? Especially in later years, when the animal life 
has considerably calmed down, and problems of the 
spirit have come to the front. Then it often happens 
that it is a hardship to be with people who are strangers 
to him. Solitude at that time of life is not a hardship, 
but a delight, a happiness of which one can only dream. 
Some people wonder at Socrates who died and did not 
care to flee from prison. But is it not better to die con- 
sciously in fulfilment of one's duty, than unexpectedly 
from some stupid bacteria ? And I have always been 
surprised that so clever a man as Turgeneff should bear 
himself as he did toward death. He was awfully afraid 
of death. Is it even incomprehensible that he was not 
afraid to be afraid of death ? And that darkness of 



LIVES AND WORKS 

no longer be ab W„ ^ . , i- ° f a sudc; 
up his ears 1„ 1° C J ° ntr °! hlmself - and would 
UrusoffVnLe wo'ufd K^lT^ ^ had fo ^ ttc » 
to that Prince frubetzkov "' ' ,1Sten " 

he man 



one 
W 



ro 
> 
>-< 

H 

> 

>g 

> u 
5 2 

O . 

J 3 

C 

o 
o 






'ikes 
it is 






" But 

>m within 

" Voluntary, yes ; but involuntary, no," said sjjme one. 

"Why? everything depends on the man's^relation 
to certain phenomena," returned Lyeff NikSaevitch. 
" They tell a story about a certain gentlemar*-who, for 
some reason, was kept for a long time in solitary con- 
finement, and spent his time there in a very remarkable 
manri »d it as follows : he fe z :n n * s 

memory t which were o JS ■» vis* 

ith fchejn pro- 

2 °- 



D 

O 

u 







H 




o 




X 




l a hardship, 




can only dream. 




died and did not 




is it not better to die con- 




Man unexpectedly 




a? And I have always been 




nan as Turgi 




leath. I: Uy afraid 




hensible that he was not 



afrait. ' And that darkm 



LIVES AND WORKS 75 

reason was really astonishing in him ! He and Prince 
D. D. Urusoff used to discuss religion, and Turgeneff 
used to dispute and dispute, and all of a sudden he 
would no longer be able to control himself, and would 
cover up his ears, and, pretending that he had forgotten 
Urusoff' s name, would shout, ' I won't listen any longer 
to that Prince Trubetzkoy.' " 

And L. N. Tolstoy mimicked Turgeneff's voice until 
one would have thought the man was there in person. 
When he is in good humor, and finds himself in the cir- 
cle of his intimate friends, he sometimes communicates 
his impressions of persons, and accurately discriminates 
the characteristic peculiarities of each individual. 



76 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 



CHAPTER XVIII 

With the spring flitting of the Tolstoys from Moscow 
to Yasnaya Polyana, Lyeff Nikolaevitch's life is fitted 
into a more convenient frame. In the first place, the 
country, with its conditions of life, and the absence of 
constant tragic contrasts, has a favorable action upon 
Lyeff Nikolaevitch ; in the second place, at Yasnaya 
Polyana he has more time at his disposal, although the 
" spectators " do not let him alone even there. 

Yasnaya Polyana descended to L. N. Tolstoy from 
his mother, by birth a Princess Volkhonsky, whom he 
has immortalized in War and Peace, under the name of 
Princess Marya Bolkonsky. It is proper to mention that 
the name Lyeff was given to him in honor of her former 
betrothed, Prince Lyeff Golitzin, who had died. 

L. N. Tolstoy was born at Yasnaya Polyana, August 
28 (September 9, N.S.), 1828. But the house in which 
our great writer first saw the light now belongs to other 
owners and stands in another village. 

When he was in the Caucasus, at the beginning of 
the '50's, Lyeff Nikolaevitch found himself in difficult 
financial circumstances, in consequence of a heavy loss 
at cards, so he commissioned one of his relatives to sell 
the house for removal. And the vast manor-house, with 
its pillars and verandas, was sold for about five thousand 
rubles. At the present time, no one lives in the house, 
and it stands in the village of Dolgoe, neglected, and 
with the windows boarded up. 

I visited the house in February of the present year, 
with an amateur photographer, P. V. Preobrazhensky. 
A feeling of oppression seized upon us, when, balancing 
ourselves on the cross-beams, we entered the half- 
ruined house, with its projecting balconies, crumbling 
walls, and heaps of rubbish, where young life had for- 



LIVES AND WORKS 77 

merly beamed and throbbed abundantly. A piercing 
wind rushed through the boarded-up windows, and 
raised clouds of dust. In the corner room, where was 
born the " great writer of the Russian land," lay a dis- 
ordered mass of broken fragments, and a pile of various 
odds and ends. 

Of the former decoration, all that remained was 
bits of the ornaments here and there. But the lower 
story, where the school-room had been, and where 
the famous Karl Ivanitch had been used to tickle his 
pupil's heels, is still sound and fit for habitation. 

The first time I was at Yasnaya Polyana was in the 
autumn of 1895. 

It was a clear, cool morning when the train of 
the Moscow-Kursk railway halted at the station of 
" Kozloffzasyeka," which is three versts from Yasnaya 
Polyana. The road from the station here runs through 
a broad cutting in the oak forest, which was already 
touched with autumnal hues, and stood out picturesquely 
against the pale turquoise sky. 

I was driven in a cabriolet by a broad-shouldered 
coachman, with a black beard, shaven on the cheeks. 
He talked in a dignified way, and expressed his appro- 
bation of his employers. Lyeff Nikolaevitch particularly 
pleased him. 

" There can be no such other gentleman in the world 
as Lyeff Nikolaevitch," said he. " He seems to be not 
more important, but less important, than every one else. 
And whoever is there, be it a general or a common man, 
he makes no distinction whatever. He is the same with 
every one — courteous, sociable. The Countess is a 
good lady, also, but of another sort ; she 's terribly fond 
of order." 

We crossed the macadam highway, straight as an 
arrow, and perceived, on the slope of an elevation, a 
large park, which concealed from us Yasnaya Polyana. 
The park, laid out at Yasnaya Polyana during Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch's period of enthusiasm for rural affairs, is 
very large. It occupies about thirty desyatins, 1 and 

1 Eigbty-one acres. 



78 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

during the harvest season there is an immense amount 
of apples. 

At the entrance to the Yasnaya Polyana park stand 
two towers, in medieval style, placed there by L. N. 
Tolstoy's grandfather on his mother's side, N. S. Vol- 
khonsky. From these towers the road runs through 
the park, rising a little as it approaches the house, 
and forms a level corridor through the aged birches. 
Through the dense leaves gleamed a pond, and glimpses 
were visible of a square, smoothly rolled space, with a 
net for lawn-tennis, and at last shone out in its white- 
ness the long, two-story house where the greater part of 
Lyeff Tolstoy's life has been passed. This house was 
not built all at once, but, as it were, spread out in pro- 
portion as the family increased. 

The cabriolet drove round the side of the house, 
which is devoid of windows, and halted before a low 
porch, toward which an ancient elm tree, called here the 
poor people s tree, stretched forth its many-branched 
trunk. Beside the elm stands the bench on which the 
poor people and the peasants await Lyeff Nikolaevitch. 
In a small vestibule, with an unpainted floor, stood a 
broad bookcase, filled with books, chiefly by foreign 
authors. By the side of the mirror, with its letter-box, 
shone two bicycles, and a long box with the implements 
for croquet was to be seen. On the pier-glass lay two 
bundles of English journals, with a multitude of stamps, 
and a Japanese journal, with vertical lines. A broad 
wooden staircase ascended from the vestibule. Here, 
as in Moscow, everything had an air of simplicity, long 
use, and the solidity of the ancient gentry. 

The lackey who came out to meet me from behind a 
partition-wall, with his little daughter, welcomed me 
cordially, and said that Lyeff Nikolaevitch was up-stairs 
with guests. 

This was contrary to rules. Generally he sets great 
value on the morning. I entered a very large hall, with 
windows on both sides, and hung with time-blackened 
family portraits. In the center of the room, at a long 
table, sat Lyeff Nikolaevitch and several guests. It 



LIVES AND WORKS 



79 



was about nine o'clock in the morning. On the table 
stood a boiling samovar, with coffee-cups, cream, bread, 
and butter. 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch had grown somewhat older during 
the time since I had last seen him. His gray hair had 
grown thinner, his beard had become longer and whiter. 
He was chatting with a student, chewing bread, and 
moving his chin back and forth. 

After introducing me to his visitors, and talking for a 
few minutes, Lyeff Nikolaevitch rose, poured himself 
out a cup of barley coffee, and, excusing himself, went 
to his own room to work. But he halted near the door, 
and said to the student : — 

" And, later on, you will be surprised that the philo- 
sophical course can give you nothing. Well, you will 
learn what a certain Terence wrote, when he was of the 
same age. But, really now, what do you want of it ? " 

The student said quietly, and as though ashamed of 
his frivolity, that he had been drawn into the philo- 
sophical course by a liking for that science. 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch hastily acknowledged the legiti- 
mate character of this inclination, and, with a friendly 
nod, went off down-stairs, shuffling his feet. But it 
sometimes happens that he stands near that door for 
hours together, with a cup or glass in his hand. So 
that place is called the Enchanted Spot, because Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch often enters into conversation with some 
one on his path, imperceptibly is carried away with the 
subject of conversation, and stands by the hour near the 
door. 



8o HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 



CHAPTER XIX 

The Countess, her daughters, relatives who had ar- 
rived from Kieff, an Englishwoman, a Frenchwoman, 
a student-tutor, the boys and their comrades, began to 
assemble in the dining-room. All entered separately, 
drank their coffee or their tea, and went off about their 
own affairs. Others appeared to take their place, made 
a litter of bread crumbs, left the tea-pot half filled, and 
the coffee-pot cold, and departed. 

With the appearance of Countess Sophia Andreevna, 
order was perceptibly restored. The extinguished sam- 
ovar began to sing, the cold coffee was heated, the 
overbrewed tea was replaced with fresh tea. Sophia 
Andreevna is a capital housewife, attentive, hospitable. 
One eats and drinks at Yasnaya Polyana as at home. 

All the complicated and troublesome management of 
the housekeeping and the direction of business is under 
the charge of Sophia Andreevna. She is indefatigable, 
and brings her brisk energy, thriftiness, and activity to 
bear on everything. Not without cause did the coach- 
man say that the Countess "was terribly fond of order." 
She has only to go away for a day or two on business 
from Yasnaya Polyana, and the complicated machine 
called "the household " begins to creak and jolt. 

The Countess has no helpers. Her three eldest sons 
live apart, and each is busy with his own affairs. Her 
daughters have their own interests and duties, which 
occupy every moment of their time. L. N. Tolstoy's 
eldest daughter, Tatyana Lvovna, in particular, a girl 
of exceptional talent, has been working very hard of 
late. In addition to the hurried copying of her father's 
articles, she conducts his vast correspondence. 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch Tolstoy could not answer with his 
own hand all the letters he receives, even if he had four 



LIVES AND WORKS 81 

hands. A mass of letters is received from all quarters 
of the globe, and in all sorts of languages. 

Who all does not address himself to him with greet- 
ings, with sympathy, with poignant problems, and accu- 
sations? Young Russians and Frenchmen, Americans, 
Dutchmen, Poles, Englishmen, Baroness Bertha Suttner, 
and a devout Brahmin from India, the dying Turgeneff, 
and the highwayman Tchurkin, writing like a wounded 
wild beast. 

The vastness of Lyeff Nikolaevitch's correspondence 
may be judged from the fact that letters concerning the 
Famine Year alone occupy a whole cupboard. Letters 
are kept at the Tolstoys' in foreign fashion with the 
envelopes in which they are received, and rarely does a 
letter remain unanswered. 

After coffee, all hastily departed about their own 
affairs, and the hall was deserted. I went down-stairs 
to the library, which, with the adjoining room, is as- 
signed to guests. 

This room is furnished plainly but tastefully ; one 
feels very comfortable in it, and very much at home. 
On the wall hang family portraits, also portraits of 
Dickens, Schopenhauer, Turgeneff, E. Kovalevsky, and 
others. In the center of the wall, in a niche, stands 
a small marble bust of Lyeff Nikolaevitch's favorite 
brother, Count Nikolai' Tolstoy, whom I have already 
mentioned. The lower drawing-room is separated from 
the library by a yellow wooden partition, with a cross- 
beam which once suggested to L. N. Tolstoy thoughts 
of suicide, during the period of his spiritual wander- 
ings. 

One wall in the library is chiefly occupied by gifts 
from authors. And what dedications are there ! In 
prose, and in verse, in Italian, and in Servian, turgid, 
and modest, and of every sort. 

One room beyond the library is Lyeff Nikolaevitch's 
study, a small room, with an unpainted floor, a vaulted 
ceiling, and thick stone walls. Formerly it was a store- 
room, and on the ceiling, to this day, are heavy, black 
^on rings, on which, in their day, hams used to hang, 



82 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

and which were afterward employed by Lyeff Nikolae- 
vitch for gymnastic exercise. 

It is as cool and quiet in the study as in a cellar. 
The furnishing of the Yasnaya Polyana study differs 
from that in Moscow in this — that here are various im- 
plements of labor : a scythe, a saw, pincers, files, and 
others. At first all this appears to be " affectation," 
but when one lives in the country, one becomes con- 
vinced that all this is absolutely indispensable ; and one 
must, imperatively, know how to do everything himself, 
in order not to fall constantly into a dependent and 
helpless position. 



LIVES AND WORKS 83 



CHAPTER XX 

At three o'clock, Lyeff Nikolaevitch looked into the 
library, and proposed to me to take a walk before din- 
ner. His face was weary, with sunken cheeks, but 
animated. His eyes still shone with the waning fire of 
excited thought. Because of the cool weather, he wore 
a threadbare cloth pelerine, and a woolen cap of domes- 
tic manufacture. But these garments did not become 
him at all, and one could feel reconciled to them only 
because of their usefulness. However, after the lapse 
of a few minutes, it seemed as though he ought to be in 
precisely that attire. 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch had hardly made his appearance, 
when several persons quitted the poor people's tree and 
approached the porch. 

" Good day. What 's the matter ? " inquired Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch, quietly, but with a curt, businesslike tone, 
thrusting his staff under his arm, and unfolding a docu- 
ment which a peasant had handed to him. 

The man began incoherently to explain some law 
case. Lyeff Nikolaevitch listened to him for a while, 
with concentrated attention, and kept repeating : — 

"Just so, just so." 

Then, evidently ^having formed a clear idea of what 
the peasant wanted, he thrust the document into his 
pocket, and promised to do all that was necessary, that 
is, to write a complaint to the Court of Appeal. 

Another peasant, of small stature, ill-favored, with 
shifty eyes, held by the hand a pale, scrofulous little boy, 
and stared intently at him. Evidently, according to the 
program already prepared, the boy was expected to 
move Lyeff Nikolaevitch to compassion in some way. 
But the boy had become confused, and hung back. Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch asked the peasant what he wanted. The 
man began to talk quickly, in general terms, about his 



84 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

hard life, and then brought the conversation round to 
the extreme need of wood. Lyeff Nikolaevitch promised 
to make inquiries about the wood, and to aid his peti- 
tioner in this matter. Two young men approached, 
clad in full trousers, sunburnt of countenance and with 
a southern accent. They were excavators, and were 
working several versts distant from Yasnaya Poly an a. 
They had heard of " the good gentleman," and had 
come for some little books. 

" For what little books ? " asked Lyeff Nikolaevitch. 

One of the young fellows, with an embroidered shirt, 
said, with an easy manner, that they wanted good little 
books to read, and they especially wished to read God's 
World. 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch replied that he had no such book. 
But the young fellow insisted that he must have it, 
because one of the excavators had spoken of it. Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch went to his study, and found a collection 
of all sorts of scientific information, under the general 
title of The Secrets and Marvels of God's Woi'ld. He 
gave them the book, and requested them to bring it back 
in good condition. The young man turned over the leaves 
with curiosity, and assured Lyeff Nikolaevitch that he 
might rest easy. We were about to set out, when from 
behind the house appeared a masculine figure, in a cap 
with a red band, and in a threadbare overcoat. The 
aspect of the stranger did not inspire confidence. He 
made a theatrical salute from afar, and with a theatrical 
gesture pulled from his pocket a document. 

" A certificate of my personal character." 

"It is not necessary — not necessary," said Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch, hastily, casting a quick glance at the 
stranger, and beat a retreat into the porch. 

A minute later he returned, and, endeavoring not to 
look at the stranger, thrust something into his hand. 
The man returned thanks, but, evidently, was not satis- 
fied with what he had received. Then he drew still 
another paper from his pocket. " Here is a certificate, 
your Illustrious Highness — " 

" I have given you what I could, I am not able to do 



LIVES AND WORKS 85 

more," said Lyeff Nikolaevitch, with an expression of 
martyrdom. 

And we set off through the park. But the ugly little 
peasant and his scrofulous boy intercepted our path. 
Lyeff Nikolaevitch halted. 

" What do you want ? " 

The peasant thrust forward the boy. The boy hesi- 
tated, became agitated, and, drawling out his words, 
appealed to Lyeff Nikolaevitch : — 

" Gi-i-i-ve the co-o-o-olt — " 

I felt uncomfortable, and knew not in which direction 
to look. 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch shrugged his shoulders. 

" What colt ? What nonsense ? I have no colt." 

" Yes, you have," declared the ill-favored little peasant, 
moving briskly forward. 

" Well, I know nothing about it. Go, and God be 
with you ! " said Lyeff Nikolaevitch, and, taking several 
strides, he leaped over a ditch. 

We walked at a brisk gait in the fields, first through the 
rye, and then along the water-meadows, which gleamed 
cheerfully in the sunshine with their succulent verdure. 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch began to question me about my 
life in the country. The conversation turned on the 
rearing of children. L. N. Tolstoy is opposed to the 
existing educational institutions, and thinks that they 
take away from the children much more than they give 
them. He quoted, jestingly, the remark of one of his 
friends, who is educating his son at home, and always 
says that, if his son does turn out a fool, at all events, 
he will not be a choke-full fool such as comes out of the 
Gymnasium. 

But Lyeff Nikolaevitch himself and his life interested 
me more than anything else. At what was he work- 
ing ? How does he live ? What are his relations to the 
people, and, especially, to those Makaroffs and Moro- 
zoff s who once constituted the famous literary firm, — 
" Makaroff, Morozoff, Tolstoy ? " And I led the con- 
versation to that subject. 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch, gliding swiftly over the ground, 



86 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

soft as a carpet, said that he felt very well, except that 
lately he had fallen ill with his usual complaint — in 
the liver. He was occupied at the time with a very com- 
plicated piece of work, which entirely engrossed him. 
He was interested in those three steps through which 
the spirit of man must infallibly move onward to per- 
fection. And Lyeff Nikolaevitch began with animation 
to set forth the fundamental theses of his work : — 

The first step is warfare with a false view of the 
world. This must be the beginning. 

The second step is warfare with delusion, that is to say, 
with phenomena which conduce to abnormal life ; and in 
conclusion, 

The third step is warfare against sin. 

From warfare with abnormal phenomena, the con- 
versation passed naturally to the melancholy side of the 
common people's life, and I questioned Lyeff Nikolae- 
vitch about the Yasnaya Polyana peasants, as to what 
sort of people they were. 

" They are peasants like any other peasants," said he, 
" not much better, not much worse, than the rest. With 
some of them I long ago established kindly, affection- 
ate relations, and they are maintained to this day, others 
— and they are in the majority — look upon me as a sort 
of horn of plenty, and that is all. And can one expect 
from them any other relations ? Their life and views 
have been formed through a course of ages under the 
influence of a multitude of irresistible conditions. And 
can one change all that ? " 

We came out upon the road, and met an old woman 
who was on her way to Yasnaya Polyana. On catching 
sight of Lyeff Nikolaevitch she came to a standstill. 
He entered into conversation with her about her mode 
of life, gave her alms, and we again turned out of the 
road into the fields. Lyeff Nikolaevitch interrupted the 
conversation only for a moment, and, glancing round, he 
admired the golden attire of the autumn. 

Suddenly, through the transparent air, from the direc- 
tion of the house, resounded the prolonged and persistent 
sound of a bell. 



LIVES AND WORKS 87 

"They are summoning us to dinner," said Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch, and quickened his pace, without, however, 
breaking off the conversation. 

We went straight ahead, leaping across gullies and 
puddles, which had formed after the rain. It was the 
first time I had made such a forced march with Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch, and I felt involuntary surprise at the elastic 
lightness with which he surmounted all obstacles. He 
seemed not to walk, but to glide over the ground, evi- 
dently without making any particular effort. I mentally 
compared him with writers of my acquaintance, who 
were much younger than he, and they appeared to me 
like ruins in comparison with him, so far as their physical 
and mental endurance were concerned : how much fire 
and force there is in him yet ! 

And it is not astonishing, for after C. Lombroso had 
been at Yasnaya Polyana, he said that L. Tolstoy was 
fit to be his son, in the matter of freshness, and then 
L. N. Tolstoy called Lombroso, in jest, " an amiable old 
man," although the latter is much younger than Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch. One episode of C. Lombroso's sojourn at 
Yasnaya Polyana is not devoid of interest. They went 
to take a bath. Lyeff Nikolaevitch asked C. Lombroso 
whether he knew how to swim. The latter declared that 
he did, watched Lyeff Nikolaevitch, and faithfully imi- 
tated everything that the latter did. L. N. Tolstoy 
crawled out on the outer board, sprang into the water, 
and swam off. C. Lombroso followed him. 

" But I turned round," says Lyeff Nikolaevitch, " and 
saw that my old man was floundering about in the 
water, but, somehow, was making no progress." 

L. N. helped him to get out. Lombroso was panting, 
but in ecstasies over his bath. In order to warm him- 
self up after his bath, Lyeff Nikolaevitch raised himself 
several times by his muscles. Lombroso, also, clung to 
the cross-beam, but could not raise himself. His visit 
gave L. N. Tolstoy great pleasure. 

" I had imagined him to be different — a scientific 
fanatic," said L. N. afterward. " He is nothing of the 
sort." 



88 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 



CHAPTER XXI 

When we reached the house, the large bell, suspended 
from a dead limb of the poor people 's tree, had rung in- 
sistently for the second time. It was three o'clock. 1 
We arrived exactly in time. Immediately after us ap- 
peared the servant with the soup-tureen in his hands. 

The long table quickly filled up with Lyeff Nikolae- 
vitch's numerous family, and Countess Sophia Andreevna 
greeted our prompt arrival with a glance of approbation, 

She occupied the so-called housewife's place ; that is, 
at the end of the table, so that she could see every- 
thing and everybody. Next her, on her right, sat Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch, and beside him his eldest daughter, Tatyana 
Lvovna. This order is preserved at dinner always and 
everywhere. 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch and his two oldest daughters eat 
no meat, and separate dishes are served for them. Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch often plays the part of host in the little 
vegetarian nook. He ladles out the thin oatmeal gruel 
into plates, and cordially helps vegetarian guests during 
the dinner, now to one dish, now to another. 

He is a vegetarian from conviction, and for many years 
has eaten neither meat nor fish, but attributes great im- 
portance to vegetable diet, both from a physiological and 
from an esthetic point of view. And, of course, he 
might serve as an eloquent example of the superiority of 
vegetable diet, if it were only possible to prove that the 
fine strength which he enjoys depends principally on his 
vegetable diet. In any case this is a serious question. 
And a man who lives exclusively on a vegetable diet, 
and, at the same time, is able, at the age of seventy, to 
fulfil, in thorough fashion, the field labor of the peas- 

1 An error somewhere, evidently, about the hour of the walk and of din- 
ner. The dinner hour at Yasnaya Polyana is nearer five o'clock. — Tr. 



i i Hiin i iiiHim i iMin m ammm i 



LIVES AND WORKS 89 

ants, to ride scores of versts on his bicycle, to play for 
hours at lawn-tennis, or to run races with the little boys, 
— such a man has a good deal of right to talk about the 
superiority of a vegetable diet. 

Countess Sophia Andreevna, on the contrary, opposes 
a vegetable diet, and only tolerates it in the house as, in 
a way, her cross. But justice must be accorded to her 
impartiality : the meat viands and the vegetarian viands 
at Yasnaya Polyana are very savory, nutritious, and 
varied. 

LyefT Nikolaevitch, in many respects, reminds one of 
a Russian peasant, but he does not eat like a Russian 
peasant, — with their deliberation and pauses, — but 
quickly and hastily, as though in a hurry to get rid, as 
soon as possible, of a disagreeable duty. 

After the first course, with which he had dulled the 
edge of his hunger, Lyeff Nikolaevitch began to address 
remarks first to one, then to another, of those present, 
imparting to the most trivial conversation that peculiar, 
rich interest which he understands how to infuse into 
everything. His humorous comments often evoked peals 
of laughter, which were especially loud at the other end 
of the table, where the youngest of the young people 
are always grouped. 

Occasionally, when relating something, Lyeff Niko- 
laevitch, on hearing laughter among the young people, 
interrupted his narration, and turned his attention in 
that direction. But, without fail, in the course of the 
dinner, he scrutinized all with his keen glance, and 
exchanged at least a few words with every individual. 

At the Tolstoys' table we drank home-brewed grain, 
kvas y cold milk, and soda-water. 

But immediately after dinner Lyeff Nikolaevitch sug- 
gested a stroll in the forest, and began to urge the 
ladies to haste. He is impatient in such circumstances, 
and does not like long preparations. But some one 
proposed a game of lawn-tennis while all were assem- 
bling. Lyeff Nikolaevitch willingly assented. 

And, a moment later, male and female figures were 
flitting about over the hard-rolled square space in front 



9 o HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

of the house, flourishing rackets, and shouting, with a 
tinge of anger, " Play ! " " Out ! " and so forth. 

Lawn-tennis is, as we all know, one of the most fas- 
cinating of games, requiring keenness of sight, skill, 
and the exercise of every muscle. And it is easily com- 
prehensible that Lyeff Nikolaevitch is passionately fond 
of this game ; it affords considerable work for his mus- 
cles. He plays ardently and with fire, but without losing 
his temper. This constant work upon himself is to be 
felt even in a game of lawn-tennis. 

Once he even yielded his racket to another player, at 
the most interesting moment of the game. However, 
this was an exceptional case. 



LIVES AND WORKS 91 



CHAPTER XXII 

As he was raising himself by his muscles one day, 
during the morning bath, he broke down, somehow, and 
fell between the boards of the bath-house, causing him- 
self considerable injuries to the breast and back. It all 
took place so quickly that neither the doctor, who was 
present, nor I succeeded in recovering from our fright 
and going to the assistance of Lyeff Nikolaevitch. He 
crawled out, unaided, from the crevice, and looked 
around in amazement, unable to understand how it had 
all happened. The right side of his breast and back 
were covered with dark red blotches. The doctor, shak- 
ing his head reproachfully, began to massage the in- 
jured parts, and to inquire concerning the degree of 
pain. 

L. N. Tolstoy stood patiently, his body shivering with 
the cold water, and kept repeating, with a smile : — 

" It is nothing, really — it hurts only a little." 

" And here ? " 

"Well, here it does seem to be painful. And how 
could it have happened ? " he asked in surprise, and as 
though excusing himself to the doctor and to me for the 
unpleasant scene. 

But, in the opinion of the doctor, Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
ought to have experienced burning pains. He felt 
chilled in the air, and began to dress himself, advising 
us to go on ahead, because he intended to walk fast in 
order to get warm. Of course, we did not follow his 
advice. 

When he had dressed himself, and thrown his towel 
round his neck, he really did set off at rapid pace up 
the hill, without heeding the doctor's warning that at 
such a time all quick movements should be avoided. 
We could hardly keep up with him. It was particu- 



9 2 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

larly difficult for the doctor, who was rather fat and 
suffered from asthma. On observing this, Lyeff Niko- 
laevitch slackened his pace, and began to talk about a 
letter which he had received, the day before, from a 
Polish Count, who was trying to entice him with Polish 
patriotism. After quoting the contents of the letter, 
Lyeff Nikolaevitch said: — 

" How often the checkers get mixed up in political 
matters ! Great caution is required, or one will find 
himself in a false position. It often happens that peo- 
ple who have no inward bond between them march 
hand in hand under one flag — under the flag of a com- 
mon hatred. What a sorry bond is that ! And what 
lack of understanding that love alone can cement men, 
and give them true strength." 

And Lyeff Nikolaevitch went on talking about love, 
as the indispensable element in every alliance. When 
we entered the dining-room he quickly ate his morning 
oatmeal, hastily looked over the English newspaper — 
the Daily Chronicle — poured himself out half a cup of 
coffee with almond milk, on his way, and excusing him- 
self, hastily went off to his own rooms. 

" He certainly must be suffering torments now," said 
the doctor, nodding approvingly in the direction of Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch. 

That day, Lyeff Nikolaevitch emerged only to dinner, 
and all the time he was so animated and merry that no 
one would have said that his back and a part of his 
breast were one mass of bruises. After dinner, the doc- 
tor began to insist that he should again be allowed to 
massage the injured places. 

" Well, if you like!" said Lyeff Nikolaevitch, evidently 
not wishing to pain the doctor by a refusal, and he led 
him off to his study. 

When the doctor laid bare the bruised parts, he shook 
his head. A part of the breast and back had assumed 
a purplish brown hue, with an iridescent play of colors. 
The doctor greased his hand with vaseline, and began 
to pass it delicately over the body, as though pressing 
out the pain from the wounded portions of the skin. 



LIVES AND WORKS 



93 



Lyeff Nikolaevitch lay motionless, never ceasing to talk, 
and highly approving the doctor's work. 

" How well you do that ! " 

But the doctor wore a stern aspect, and kept repeat- 
ing, persistently, in rhythm with the movement of his 
hand : — 

" The principal thing now is to avoid violent mo-o-ove- 
ment ; the principal thing is to give the irritated ti-i-is- 
sues rest." 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch made no reply. 

But when, half an hour later, the doctor arrived at 
the lawn-tennis ground, he saw, among the players, 
Lyeff Nikolaevitch, who was flourishing his racket with 
animation. The doctor sat down heavily on a bench, 
and waved his hand in despair. Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
caught his glance of displeasure, and hastily handed 
over his racket. 

" I won't do it ; I won't do it any more," he said, in 
a guilty tone, and went up to the doctor. 



94 



HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 



CHAPTER XXIII 

Countess Sophia Andreevna had finished all her 
domestic arrangements, and made her appearance, with 
the other ladies, near the lawn-tennis ground. 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch began to urge the players to 
haste, and, a few minutes later, a company of twelve 
persons set out straight across the park. Lyeff Niko- 
laevitch conducted the expedition. We went up hill 
and down, made our way through the thicket, crossed 
the water on a transverse plank. Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
was merry, and animated, and talkative ; he helped the 
ladies at difficult points, and even invented for one lady 
something in the nature of an elevator: he pressed 
the head of his staff against the back of her belt, and 
thereby considerably lightened the ascent for her. 

When, at last, we emerged into an open spot, before 
us lay outspread a rather picturesque view, with yellow- 
ing groups of trees, effectively lighted up by the rays 
of the setting sun. Here and there, stately, dark green 
fir trees stood out, sharply outlined against the golden 
background of the autumn foliage. We turned aside 
to the nursery of forest trees, inspected them, and took 
a path for the macadamized highway. Lyeff Niko- 
laevitch took an interest in everything, entered into 
conversation with every one, and exchanged friendly 
greetings with every one whom we met, without wait- 
ing for them to bow to him. In all, we traversed about 
seven versts. Toward the end of the walk, all felt 
somewhat weary and thirsty. 

The samovar was already boiling in the dining-room, 
and the cups gleamed cheerfully. Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
took a new number of the Revue de Paris, which had 
just arrived, and went to his study. It is a genuine 




COUNT TOLSTOY AT REST 
From a Painting by Repin 



rs to 

: 

ition. We went up hill 
y through th 

ink. L olaevitch 

I, and talkativ 

and even invc lady 

e of an elev 



3 

In all, \\ 
d of th 



.vhic! 



LIVES AND WORKS 



9S 



luxury for him to half recline, after a good walk, with 
a new book in his hands. 

Evening began to draw on. Candles were brought 
to the tea-table. On the other, the round table, which 
stood in the corner, a lamp with a shade was placed. 
Sophia Andreevna laid out to dry the photographs 
which she had taken during the day, and then took up 
her sewing, and seated herself at the round table, bend- 
ing low over her work. She always has some work on 
hand, and is constantly making or making over some- 
thing for Lyeff Nikolaevitch, or for her youngest daugh- 
ter, or for some of the house-servants. The elder 
daughters departed to their own rooms. The youngest, 
eleven-year-old Sasha, sat by the table, and played chess 
with a Gymnasium lad who had arrived. Two little 
boys in every-day blouses played battledore and shuttle- 
cock, urging each other on with expressions of the most 
insulting description for the pride of the player, of this 
sort: "You, sir, ought to be playing with dolls still, 
instead of at battledore and shuttlecock." " You, senor, 
ought to learn first, how to hold your battledore, and 
then you might make up your mind to play with people 
who — " and so forth. 

The large hall, with its dark squares of ancient 
portraits, was submerged in semi-obscurity. Several 
objects melted into their outlines. In the corners the 
plaster busts of Lyeff Nikolaevitch shone white, — one 
the work of the painter Gay, the other by I. Ry6pin. 
Near the wall was the long, dark silhouette of the 
grand piano, with the uncertain outlines of the music 
piled upon it, and of the balalaika 1 and the mandolin. 
On the tables everywhere were books, journals, illustra- 
tions. 

Suddenly brisk, shuffling steps became audible, and, 
creaking up the stairs, Lyeff Nikolaevitch hastily en- 
tered the room with the French magazine in his hand. 
His face was excited. 

" What horrors are being perpetrated in Turkey ! 
Heavens, and when will all this end? Tanya, Masha, 

1 A three-stringed musical instrument. — Tr. 



96 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

come here. Hearken to what is going on in Armenia," 
said Lyeff Nikolaevitch, so loudly that he could be heard 
two rooms off. 

The games ceased. Lyeff Nikolaevitch's two eldest 
daughters made their appearance in the hall. All seated 
themselves around the table with the lamp, and Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch began to read about the Sassoon horrors, 
interrupting his reading with various remarks, in order 
to control the emotion which overpowered him. Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch reads superbly. But dramatic scenes are 
beyond his powers. As he possesses remarkably acute 
artistic feeling, he seems to divine the approaching 
horror of the drama a whole verst off, and his voice, in 
spite of himself, becomes oppressed. 

The description of the Sassoon brutalities produced a 
profound impression on all. As he read several scenes, 
Lyeff Nikolaevitch threw himself back from the book, 
and said : — 

" How terrible this is ! " 

For some time the conversation hovered about the 
massacre at Sassoon. The servant brought the mail, 
which, however, produces no sensation here, because it 
is received from three stations, and always in abundance. 
A whole bundle of letters, notifications, and telegrams 
were addressed to Lyeff Nikolaevitch. He opens them, 
lays some on one side, leaves others, and reads some 
aloud, when, if the letter is written in any foreign lan- 
guage, in the presence of guests it is immediately read 
in Russian, with only a few pauses. 

A German journalist writes to Lyeff Nikolaevitch a 
fervent letter about one of his articles. K., an English- 
man, imparts from London a whole mass of political 
and literary news. The conversation turns upon Eng- 
lish literature. 

At ten o'clock the servants begin to set the table 
for supper. Although Lyeff Nikolaevitch has been 
speaking with animation, and has been courteous to all, 
something seems to have congealed in his face, and not 
a single note of cheerful tone now breaks forth from his 
voice. 



LIVES AND WORKS 97 

He played a game of chess, but this did not distract 
his mind. During supper, loud voices became audible 
down-stairs, and new visitors made their appearance, 
good friends of the Tolstoys who had come from Mos- 
cow. They brought with them a whole budget of the 
most vitally interesting news. Lyeff Nikolaevitch was 
very glad to see his guests, and chatted with them in a 
friendly manner, but his face still wore an expression of 
dissimulation and sadness, as it were. The description 
of human suffering in Armenia had evidently left a 
painful sediment in his soul. 

The next morning, various petitioners, male and 
female, began to make their appearance. From Tula 
came some officer or other, with a pale, nervous face, 
and after him, a lady in mourning garments. Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch received them, but the interviews did not 
last long, not more than a few minutes. Again, near 
the poor people's tree, peasants, passers-by, old men, and 
old women, with various petitions, were awaiting Lyeff 
Nikolaevitch. Again he did what he could for each 
one. Again the post brought a big pile of letters, news- 
papers, pamphlets, notifications, telegrams, with different 
requests, questions, and expectations. 

After dinner, Lyeff Nikolaevitch rode into Tula on 
his bicycle, to see a friend. 

Twilight began to descend. Several of us visitors 
were chatting together in the lower drawing-room which 
adjoins the library. Hasty steps became audible, and 
Lyeff Nikolaevitch entered. He bent forward, looked 
for an empty seat, and sat down with us. There was a 
peculiar warmth in his voice. This was not the famous 
Lyeff Tolstoy, the great writer and passionate preacher, 
but rather a gentle, modest Publican, conscious of his 
imperfections, and beholding before him, as yet, only 
the first steps of that lofty staircase which must be 
mounted. 

In answer to his question, what were we talking about, 
one of us said that we had been discussing a family well 
known to all of us, in which discord was smoldering. 
Two of those present blamed the wife, and exculpated 



98 HOW COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

the husband. Lyeff Nikolaevitch listened attentively, 
and said : — 

" But can we make all our demands on a woman, and 
judge her harshly, when we have ourselves trained her 
to all sorts of falsehood ? Do we not prize in her, above 
all else, precisely that which relates to her sex, and do 
we not take her to wife because of that ? And, all of a 
sudden, we demand that she shall be our friend. That 
is false, and a lie. I will seek a friend for myself among 
men. And no woman can take the place of my friend. 
Then why do we lie to our wives, and assure them that 
we regard them as our true friends ? Surely, that is 
untrue." 

" But what are we to do ? How is peace to be estab- 
lished in a family ? " asked one of us. 

"The husband must take upon himself the whole 
burden of the false situation which he has created, and 
be indulgent to his wife," said Lyeff Nikolaevitch, with 
ardent conviction. " Never, under any circumstances, 
for any consideration whatever, should he deprive his 
wife of his support, because marriage is an elevation 
for the majority of such sinful men as we. When we 
choose for our wife a certain woman, we thereby, as it 
were, announce to all the other women in the world 
they are our sisters. Therein lies the profound mean- 
ing of marriage. But if any one can remain virgin, 
without distorting his nature, that must be a lofty 
happiness ! " 

And Lyeff Nikolaevitch told us that he knew one 
married pair, who had lived together many years, ob- 
serving between them the relations of brother and sister. 
The daily equality of their relations always charmed 
Lyeff Nikolaevitch to such a degree, that one day he 
wrote them a friendly letter, in which he congratulated 
the wife with especial warmth upon the purity of these 
relations. To this letter he received an unexpected 
reply, which, nevertheless, touched him profoundly. 
She wrote him that, in spite of all her delight over his 
letter, she must, nevertheless, decline all his praises, 
because the most cherished desire of her heart was to 



LIVES AND WORKS 



99 



be, not the friend, but the wife of her husband, and to 
have children by him, but that her husband wished 
to maintain chaste relations with her, therefore be it 
according to his will. 

At these words, Lyeff Nikolaevitch's voice broke, and 
he wept. 

" Which of us sinners," said he, conquering his emo- 
tion, "would dare to reproach them if, after all, they 
should come together as husband and wife ? But that 
frank confession from the mouth of a modest woman, 
and her tranquil obedience to her husband's will — how 
beautiful it all is ! " 

And Lyeff Nikolaevitch continued for a long time 
still to discuss the moral side of marriage. 

His ardent faith in the triumph of the highest princi- 
ples in man, his profound belief in the vivifying power 
of moral ideals, an inspiration wherein is concealed also 
the deepest significance of our life, and the most healing 
remedy for all ills, in short, that peculiar, entrancing 
Tolstoy tone, which, like a tightly stretched chord, re- 
sounds in some of his writings, — all this here, in the 
twilight, in the intimate, low-voiced conversation, when 
every word acquires its special language, had a particu- 
larly attractive power. 

When we were called to tea, and went up-stairs, as we 
mounted the stairs we experienced a sensation as though 
our wings had begun to grow. And our earthly burdens 
did not seem to us very heavy. 

And that whole memorable evening afterward as- 
sumed a sort of peculiarly elegiac character. Several 
of us took our departure at twelve o'clock at night, 
and we felt sad at leaving that roof, beneath which we 
had lived through so many never-to-be-forgotten im- 
pressions. 

After tea a general conversation arose about music, 
poetry, and verses. One of Tolstoy's feminine relatives 
read, in a peculiar, drawling elocution, several new- 
fashioned poems in the symbolical style, "with lilac 
sounds," and " gnawing perfumes." Lyeff Nikolaevitch 
stood by the piano, with his hand thrust into the belt of 



ioo COUNT L. N. TOLSTOY 

his blouse, and listened, with a smile, to the reading. 
When it was over, he laughed, and said : — 

" Well, if it is a question of taking into your mouth 
all the sonorous words, and then letting them out again, 
you had better read Fet. In him there is both poetry 
and taste." 

And, raising his head a little, as though trying to 
recall something half-forgotten, Lyeff Nikolaevitch re- 
cited, with much expression, one of Fet's poems, in 
which the poet compares the starry sky to an overturned 
urn. 

We began to talk about Fet. 

Countess Sophia Andreevna tried to recall one of his 
poems dedicated to her, and set to music, but was unable 
to do so. 

Lyeff Nikolaevitch seated himself at the piano, and 
with a free, light touch, played that romance. Tatyana 
Lvovna, the eldest daughter of the Tolstoys, approached 
the piano in a flowered peasant woman's jacket, and 
asked her father if he would not accompany her. He 
gladly consented. She took up her mandolin, leaned 
against the piano, and they began to play harmoniously 
and melodiously, presenting an enviable group for an 
artist. 

After the music, Lyeff Nikolaevitch approached his 
guests, and chatted in a friendly manner with each one 
of those who were about to depart. At eleven o'clock, 
the katki — that is, a long jaunting-car which will hold 
ten persons — drove up to the door. 

The night was clear and cool. The whole Tolstoy 
family came out on the porch to wish the parting guests 
God-speed. 

When the katki drove away from the house, all, as 
though at a given signal, turned round, and gazed long 
through the dense grove at the lighted windows of the 
long house in which had flowed past the greater part of 
the extremely active life of one of the most remarkable 
men in the history of mankind. 




Mu^e^t^ &^vt%uiutf Ad<^z&&A&4ii 
Pup a ^rnm^W ^mu^ 




Facsimile of a page of Tolstoy's Manuscript 



MAR 25 1899 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



0DD23E75521 



